A Constant in the Darkness
by camoozle
Summary: Bella, suffering from an eating disorder, returns to Forks to care for her estranged father. She seeks comfort in Edward, an aspiring chef, who is having difficulty dealing with his own demons. AH, AU, OOC, B/E
1. Leave 'em Laughing When You Go

Darlings,

This is my first venture into fan fiction as a writer. I hope you find it entertaining. I have to thank **Project Team Beta** for all their lovely assistance. They are gems! Also, the most poetic **Joni Mitchell**, whose italicized lyrics are scattered throughout. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or any of its lovely characters.

**BPOV**

When I think of my father, a million different smells swirl through my consciousness: fresh tobacco, smoke wafting from the porch as he enjoyed his daily pipe; grease, oil and sweat, grimy fingers reaching for a cold beer as he comes in from the garage; after-shave and soap, as he pulls me into a fierce bear hug, laughing at my pathetic attempts to break free; fresh bread and marinara, bubbling on the stove, splattering that will stay on the range for days until I finally break down and wipe it up with a sponge.

The last time I smelled him I was ten years old. It was past midnight and my mother had jerked me from a comfortable dream, frantically grasping at my pajamas and brushing the dark, unruly, hair from my face.

"Bella, we're leaving, get your shoes," she had whispered fiercely into my cheek. I could smell the whiskey on her breath, the smoke lingering in her hair. Her eyes were crazed, daring me to argue. And, just like always, I accepted her challenge.

"Where are we going?" I mumbled lazily, still sleepy and incoherent. "Momma, I don't want to leave. I want to go to sleep. Where's Daddy?"

"Daddy's gone. He's gone. We have to leave. We have to get out of here. I can't… I can't stay here… This place is sucking the life out of me." She was choking on the words, spitting them out with venom and tenacity, as if she were coaxing herself into this decision.

I observed her inner conflict, still confused. She was muttering under her breath, engaged in some tormented dialogue, but I was still focused on my dad. Where did he go? What did she mean, "he's gone"? Gone to the station? Billy's? Gone, like dead gone? I was scared. I mean, I'd seen my mom upset before, usually after her "big girl" drink and her smoke on the porch. But there was a frantic urgency in her voice, a desperation that made me want to find my father even more.

"No Momma, go to bed, you're just tired. You'll feel better in the morning, everyone always feels better in the morning." I tried to console her, looking for my slippers. "Where's daddy? I want to see him."

She was grabbing my arm then, and this I remember quite vividly, pulling me close to her face, searching my fluid eyes, her gaze flitting furiously from one dark iris to the other, begging for something worth staying for. She slowly brought her palms to my face, cradling my cheeks and lightly passing her thumbs over my eyelids, forcing them to close.

"You have his eyes, you know." Her voice was hollow, disappointment tainting her compliment. She wouldn't look at me as she released my face. Apparently, she didn't find anything.

I ran to the downstairs closet, grabbing the first thing I could find: his old flannel shirt. He had worn it last night during his smoke; it still smelled of sweet tobacco, after shave, grease, bread and just everything decent about my childhood.

I knew then that this life was over. I didn't know why he left or where he went. I didn't know what we had done to cause him to just vacate. All I knew was we were running. He didn't have his favorite shirt and my mother was willing to drag her ten-year-old daughter out into the freeze of February in Forks, Washington, in the middle of the night, while intoxicated and probably a little high.

Looking back, I can't believe this was the shit going through my ten-year-old head. My mother is such a fucking bitch.

And now, 7 years later, kneeling on our linoleum floor in Phoenix, all I could smell was the vomit on my fingers, the slight bleach smell of the toilet, and the bitter after taste of marinara, as I gasped over the cool porcelain bowl. The humidity of the hot spray splattering against the shower curtain was beginning to fog up the mirrors and a damp sheen covered my face. The saliva pooled in my gaping mouth, causing me to heave again. Hot tears streamed from my eyes, blinding me momentarily as I reached for a towel to wipe my mouth. I flushed the toilet, using the brush to scrub the inside of the bowl. I swiftly brushed my teeth and lapped the stream from the tap. I stepped into the warm water, letting it wash over my body, flooding the tub with all my self-disgust.

As I toweled my hair, my mother rapped softly on the door. "Fifteen minutes, Bella," she said curtly. Like I didn't know.

I quickly detangled my long hair, wrapping it into a messy bun and pulled on my jeans and favorite cotton tank, avoiding the mirror. I knew I wouldn't be able to wear it once I got off the plane, but I just couldn't give in to extreme temperatures just yet. I had recently donated most of my Phoenix clothes to Goodwill, including eight pairs of flip flops. I laced my newly acquired sneakers and tossed the remainder of my toiletries into my suitcase. No looking back.

I met my mother and her new husband, Phil, at the car. It was surprisingly warm for March, even in Phoenix. I said my goodbyes to the glowing warmth of the sun as I loaded my suitcase into the trunk, my mother and Phil standing silently. You'd think Renee would want to give me some advice, you know, something motherly. Then again, my mother has never actually been motherly.

Renee was one of those mothers that wanted to be her kid's best friend. You know, the kind of parent that buys their kid alcohol because she wants them to drink at home, experience it in a "safe environment". I'd had my first beer with Renee when I was thirteen. I had just gotten my period for the first time, so she fucking handed me a beer. Luckily, I had learned about the female reproductive cycle in fifth grade from the school nurse. Apparently, the ability to bear children goes hand in hand with alcohol.

At 15, she educated me in the ways of cannabis. My mom had left her pipe out on the coffee table again and I finally had a friend coming over. Not wanting yet another not-that-far-from-the-truth rumor circulating my high school, I took the pipe and hastily stowed it in my pocket, out of sight. I knew what it was for. She'd been smoking weed for as long as I could remember. Anyway, she found it on my person and decided she would indulge my "natural curiosity". I really wasn't that curious, but for the first time, a glimpse of what I presumed was her mothering nature snuck into view. She scolded me lightly, telling me drugs are bad, she only smoked to fall asleep, excuse, rationalize, blah. I was touched. We smoked a bowl and I was further reminded that I am completely alone in this world.

Since then, she has deluded herself into thinking we have this wonderful relationship, that we are more than genetics, we're friends. She tells me everything--appalling amounts of information--constantly berating me for juicy gossip in return. Because that's what relationships are, right? Give and take? It's not that I don't want to share; I just honestly have nothing to give.

Sitting now, in the back of Phil's car on the way to the airport, I popped a peppermint into my mouth, the lingering marinara still slightly burning the back of my throat. I watched the wide, red sky of Phoenix fade behind the dark tint of the back seat window. I focused on the high, white clouds, while "Rows and flows of angel hair" chimed in the background, the high soprano voice, lulling and relaxing. This might be the one thing my mother shared with me that I appreciate. I'm pretty sure Joni Mitchell was my soul mate in a past life.

"Um, Bella?" Phil brought me out of my Joni-induced piano coma. He glanced in the rear-view mirror. "I just want to let you know that you are always welcome in our home. I know this is a difficult time for you, but once we move to Florida, you'll have your own room there." Oh, God, he's trying to reach out. Maybe we could decorate it with little pink bunnies and flowers, adorable curtains and a fluffy bed spread. Shit, I already wanted to puke again.

My mom teaches art at the community college in Phoenix. She met Phil when he took one of her watercolor classes. He's only five years younger than her, but he was still taking art classes at a community college. Ugh, I know, red flag, right? They got married six months later in Vegas. She'd just gotten a new teaching position in Florida and was planning on moving us all out there when Charlie had his heart attack.

"Sure, Phil, thanks." I threw him a bone. My mom just sighed, glancing out her window.

"I mean, after your father…" he pressed. "Well, you won't have to stay in Forks forever, you know."

"Sure, sure," I responded, trying to control the tone of my voice. What the hell? After my father what? Fucking dies? Just say it, asshole, don't hold back on my account. Fucking potheads.

"Bella, chill. We just want you to know that you always have a place with us." My mom had found her voice.

I wanted to be comforted by their words, honestly. I wanted to believe I had a place somewhere, even in shitty Florida, but I just couldn't see myself in their life now. When Forks Hospital called my mom last week to tell us that my father, Charlie, had suffered a massive heart attack and was undergoing a triple bypass surgery, I was indifferent.

I hadn't heard from the guy in 7 years and all of sudden, I'm supposed to care. I'm supposed to worry, fill my mind and heart with concern and sympathy and pity and any other emotion that has been void from this man for 7 years? I almost laughed. It was comical that this is how I would find out where he was, what he was doing. He never tried to reach us after we left, and apparently he didn't stray far from Forks. My mom always claimed that our leaving was the best thing for him, no strings, no attachments. He must have agreed.

Anyway, now my father, Charlie, needs help. He needs my help. Yeah, the prognosis doesn't look good. Apparently Charlie's severely overweight, courtesy of a steady diet of steak and potatoes from the local greasy diner. Even if he were to make it out of the surgery, the recovery was going to be long and tedious, the doctor had said. Get a fucking nurse, was the first thought that came to mind. Of course, because I'm Bella, I accepted the responsibility. That's what I do. I'm the one who remembers to put the clothes in the dryer so they won't get all mildewed, I make sure we have milk in the morning for cereal and I hold Renee's hair when she's had too much to drink, nursing her hangover in the morning. It's what I do, and now I must do it for him.

…

When I finally got on the plane, toting a small backpack which held my essential reading and listening materials, I checked my ticket. 17 B. Shit, a middle seat. Karma is a fickle bitch and she always seems to end up owning me.

I was seated between a man in a suit, probably traveling for business, and an elderly woman, who sat knitting the ugliest sweater I'd ever seen. She kept bumping my arm, her bony little point of an elbow mercilessly digging into my forearm. I'd have a bruise for sure. The man sat staring at a laptop, lost in some power point presentation about synergy or some bullshit. I placed the ear buds of my mp3 player snugly into both ears and found my soul mate. "It sure is hard to leave here, but it's really not my home."

Home… the closest thing to home I had was wadded up in the bottom of my tote: a dirty old shirt. I didn't wash it for months after we had left. After Renee figured out where we were going, I kept thinking my father would find us. She kept telling me he wouldn't, that he wouldn't even try, but I couldn't let myself believe that. I slept in that shirt, inhaling it deeply and trying to force the memories into my consciousness. Eventually, the shirt found its way to the hamper and his smells were gone forever. I try to find them, every so often. Searching smoke shops for his tobacco, learning to bake bread, ordering marinara, I even took auto shop in ninth grade. But Charlie was gone and it wasn't the same.

Ninth grade, that's when I started avoiding food. I just couldn't find my appetite. I had always been thin, 110 pounds at the most now. I guess I can thank Renee for my small 5'2" frame. I didn't want to lose weight; I just didn't want to eat. Every time I'd eat, I'd think of the bread and pasta Charlie used to cook for us and I'd smell it, remembering how I could smell the garlic from the driveway as I was coming home from school.

Eating was the one thing I could control, the one constant in my life. Have you ever noticed how it fuels your entire day? It controls your decisions, your moods, and your social life. What to eat for breakfast is the first decision you make in the morning. You are a slave to the gnawing and grumbling going on in your bowels. It influences our moods: some people are downright crabby when they're hungry. And of course, there's dinner and a movie, the cliché, perfect date: the perfect meal, with the perfect guy, and the perfect happily ever after. It's a cure-all; an easily accessible and socially accepted drug for a pick-me-up or for wallowing in self pity.

I remember my father being a large man; it used to benefit him in the line of duty. He was Chief Swan before his heart attack, chief of Forks Police Department. He was imposing, strong, and utterly terrifying. Nobody fucked with him. And now he's dying, consumed by his own traitorous lack of self control.

I can remember watching him eat, savoring each flavor, while chewing and moaning in satisfaction. He'd comment on how the basil was fresh, and that made all the difference. Or that the tomatoes were bitter and how he should have let them reduce a bit longer at a higher heat in order to release some of the acid. His meals were always amazing; I could never find anything wrong with them. I soaked up this information, though, connecting myself to him through cooking. It was something he had shared with me a long time ago.

No, food would not control me any longer. There was nothing remotely perfect in my life. I would never have that perfect meal or perfect date or perfect guy. My own father didn't want me, so why would any decent, never mind perfect, guy want me?

I started subconsciously, omitting a meal here and there. I'm not an idiot. I understand I need something of substance to exist, but I only allow myself the bare minimum, dining for survival, not satisfaction.

Hunger eventually goes away, dulling to an annoying ache in my belly. I could usually score some pills to help curb my appetite, but I like the feeling of being empty; it's even comfortable now. If I fill myself it's because of the intoxicating smells, not the hunger. Renee knows I can't resist the smell of marinara, that's why she made it today. She thinks it will help. If she cooks food that she knows I like, I will eat. She's right, I don't have enough willpower to stay away, but after I'm finished the guilt consumes me, causes pain to swell in my abdomen, so I ease the pain with the only release I know. I purge. I stick two fingers down my throat and activate the gag reflex. It only takes a couple of seconds; I have a weak stomach to begin with. And then it's out and I'm empty again and it's comfortable.

I had worked really hard to hide this from Renee, but shit kind of hit the fan at my friend Angela's party last month. I hadn't eaten in a couple days and was starting to feel a little loopy. I was still taking the meds, pills designed to help with depression or ADHD, which conveniently cause loss of appetite as well as some other useful side effects. The party was just so crowded, tons of bodies crammed into Angela's small living room and kitchen. I started getting sweaty, my hair was sticking to my forehead, my heart racing in my throat and my toes starting to curl. I couldn't control my limbs, and I was twitching and hyperventilating all over the place. It was so fucking embarrassing. I had collapsed on the bathroom floor. Angela called 911 and an ambulance took me to the hospital. I told them it was just a reaction to the meds, but Angela knew everything and she was pissed.

Angela was there the first time I made myself puke. It was sophomore year and we were at this guy Ben's house, just hanging out, smoking, drinking, you know, sophomoric shit. The combination of the weed, alcohol, and, of course, lack of food consumption had really fucked me up. I did not want to puke, and I was trying everything in my highly compromised power to avoid it.

Angela and I had walked outside. I was hoping the fresh air would help, but the movement had just made things worse. It was so pathetic. There I was crouched over Ben's mom's rock planter (because no sane person grows anything green in Phoenix), willing myself not to puke, and then Angela had said, "Why don't you just make yourself throw up already? You'll feel so much better." And these words rang like an epiphany, like the solution for all of my problems had been found. Then I did it. I made myself throw up in the fucking rock planter and I did feel so much better. After a while, I began to rely on this to ease my discomfort. I didn't hide it from Angela, because she had suggested it in the first place. But then she started to worry, so she researched eating disorders and nothing's more dangerous than an overachiever with internet access.

She had threatened to tell my mom before her party, told me that I was going to die, that I wouldn't be able to have kids, that the stomach acid rots your back molars. I knew it all, of course, because I, too, had internet access. But it didn't matter. It's like telling a smoker they're going to get cancer if they keep smoking. I was addicted. All the shit she was talking about was so far removed from my present compulsion; the relief was my only concern.

And then, last month, I went and ruined her party. Along with the ambulance came the police, kicking everyone out of Angela's house and humiliating her in front of practically everyone from school. Then she had to explain everything to her parents and she did so with brutal honesty and at my expense. Angela wasn't speaking to me, but she called my mom and told her everything.

Renee, like always, acted the friend. She wanted to talk to me about it, wanted to know if it was a body image thing and I tried to assure her it wasn't. My mom just kept telling me I was beautiful just the way I was, trying to boost my self-esteem in one conversation. Therapy was suggested, and I shuddered at the thought of trying to talk to some stranger about this. It would be exhausting and difficult and I just didn't want to do it.

Then there was the moving to Florida thing. I really did not want to live in Florida and I really did not want to live with Phil. I really just wanted to disappear.

Renee had begged me to stay, said I didn't have to go. She did say, in a rare moment of maternal rage, that if I wanted to die so badly, I should go and see what that would entail. This statement furthered my resolve. Honestly, I don't want to die. I just don't want to lose that control. I felt bad about how I had treated Angela; she was an okay friend and I wasn't. I was selfish and I had hurt her. A good person would do this, take care of her ailing father, and currently, I am not a good person. Hopefully, I can work my way back into Karma's good graces.

…

**EPOV**

Jesus Christ, it is fucking hot in here. Why won't she turn on the fan or open a window? Where is that sauté pan? I quickly ducked below the counter, frantically searching for my desired pan. Ha, hiding under a cookie sheet. I threw it on the range and lit the burner. I poured a small amount of olive oil into the pan and reduced the heat, just causing the oil to slightly ripple.

Taking my large knife, I swiftly minced an onion and three cloves of garlic. Sweat was beading on my prominent brow and I creased my forehead to prevent it from running into my eyes. The oil had began to smoke slightly so I tossed the onions into the pan and they were quickly engulfed in the sizzling liquid, popping and splattering and filling the room with the heady aroma.

"Edward, you're making a mess," my younger sister Alice said. Tiny and bothersome, she was sitting on the counter, lazily shuffling a deck of cards.

"Can you open a damn window, or something? I'm fucking melting here," I spat back.

"But that will let the smell out," she retorted. She moved to open the kitchen window and a flourish of cool, damp air began to circulate, causing a chill to move across my forehead.

The onions were translucent now, so I added the minced garlic, reducing the heat to a slow simmer. Ahhhh, glorious. The smell permeated my senses, slightly stinging my eyes. I grabbed a towel from the counter to wipe my brow. I added the stewed tomatoes, crushing them with my fingers into a fine pulp. Salt, sugar, red pepper flakes and fresh basil, torn not minced… I was home.

The kitchen is my home. Wrapped in the ingredients, the blending and fusion of acid and base, smoldering flavors and fragrance, nourishing and fueling the body and mind, I found my purpose here. Have you ever noticed how a good meal can change anyone's mood? Good friends, good conversation and good food can pull anyone out of a funk.

Alice was now standing beside me, trying to look around my 6'2" stance and totally invading my personal space.

"Dude, back up. I need some elbow room," I nudged her out of the way and began to stir the mixture which was now starting to thicken. She stuck her tongue out at me and danced back to the counter, gracefully hopping to sit in her former spot. She laid a card on a silk scarf, analyzing and scribbling in a small notepad.

"See anything interesting?" I asked, rolling my eyes.

She glanced over at me, fluttering her dark lashes, her recently chopped jet black hair sticking up all over the place. She was experimenting with new looks again. Two years ago, back in Chicago, she'd been a carefree fourteen-year-old, bright and airy, her natural coppery bronze hair falling to her tiny waist. Last month her smooth chin length bob was flaming red. Then, yesterday she came home looking like she'd lost a bet, donning a super short pixie cut, practically shaved at the nape of the neck. She made some adjustments though, dying it black and adding some gel, and I really have to say, if anyone could get away with that hair cut, it would be Alice. For the last two years she's been constantly reinventing herself, changing her hair, her clothes, trying desperately to get away from what used to be, to get away from them.

Slowly, the images began to creep behind my eyes. I fought to push these visions aside, to control the bile rising in my throat. I remember being amazed at how there wasn't very much blood. Everything seemed normal when Alice and I came home from school that day and everything seemed normal now, cooking my Uncle Carlisle's favorite dish, Eggplant Parmigiana with marinara sauce, in his excessively large mansion of a house that we now live in, my sister sitting casually on the countertop.

But I would never be normal. I would be just like him. I was a fucking ticking time bomb, just waiting for the hormone and internal chemical levels to produce a vile and poisonous cocktail, setting forth a chain of events that would alter the inner workings of my mind forever. I'd researched it as soon as Carlisle had told us. I knew what was coming. When my somebody snaps, are they aware they are snapping? I wonder if I'll still want to cook. Will they even let me use the stove? I gazed intently at the flames licking the side of the pan, my fingers twitching involuntarily towards the heat. Her words rang like a bell in a deep conclave of soul and mind, "You're just like your father. You have his eyes, you know."

"Stop it." Alice brought me back, reading my mind, knowing where it had wandered.

I gave her a crooked smile, because I know she hates to see me in that dark place. It kills me that she is going to have to deal with this on her own, that I can't protect her from the inevitable. So I'll give her this smile now, knowing that she's going to hate my fucking guts when it happens, knowing that I will never be able to give her anything again.

She glanced down at her cards again, squinting her expressive eyes and pursing her pixie lips.

"Something's changing, Edward," she murmured, her eyes scanning the cards. "The Wheel of Fortune, symbolizes destiny, witnessing miracles, turning point, movement, awareness..."

She paused, "Eight of Wands, it's going to happen fast." She let them fall, not adjusting or touching them after they had slipped from her fingers.

"The Hanged Man, letting go, accepting what is,"

I swallowed hard, removing the sauce from the heat and extinguishing the flame.

"The Tower, realizing the truth, exposing what was hidden, flanked by Death, a sweeping impact…"

I slowly and deliberately turned to face her. I wanted to scream at her to shut up. I knew it all. I didn't really believe in it, her cards, "fortunes," like some cheesy psychic on the boardwalk. It was a load of bullshit, I know. But the words spewing from her mouth reminded me of that ticking bomb. I raked my fingers through my messy hair, slightly tugging in frustration.

"The Chariot, control, mastering of emotions, Ten of Swords, putting others first, curbing impulses..."

The cards flew from her fingers now. Entranced, she rocked slightly in her seated position, tossing cards and spouting verbiage at a disarming rate.

"The Moon, fear, releasing inner demons, Nine of Swords, anguish, guilt, Five of Cups, saying goodbye…"

I was going to snap. Yep, I knew it was coming. I felt on the brink, a gaping hole swelling in my chest, fire burning in my veins. I growled a warning.

Suddenly, Alice gasped. She stopped moving, fingering the card she had just placed. "The Lovers, Edward, forming a union, making love…" She eyed me suspiciously, like I was the one who fucking pulled that card.

She pulled another card, randomly from her deck.

"Page of Cups, intimacy…"

"Four of Pentacles, declaring ownership…"

"Emperor, establishing a family line…"

She flipped another card.

"The Star, Edward. Hope." She gazed at me, her green eyes boring into mine, mirroring my own stunned reflection. Hope, a nasty four letter word.

We sat in silence, sharing an unspoken conversation.

"You'd better cut that out Alice, someone might have you committed," I whispered to break the silence.

The front door opened then and a bustle of activity snapped the tension radiating from the kitchen. Alice proceeded to frantically scribble her predictions into her notebook.

"Man, I can smell that garlic from the driveway." My cousin Emmett bounded into the kitchen, tossing his gym bag on the counter. The kitchen seemed to shrink as he occupied it, taking up more space than was necessary. He inspected the food I was preparing. "Eggplant? Seriously? Didn't you make any meat? I need my protein, you know."

Emmett just turned 18, a year older than me, and on the Varsity Wrestling team. The dude is seriously ripped. He is constantly on some diet, trying to make weight. Protein powders, weight gainers, supplement shakes; it's all blasphemy in my eyes. Nothing but pure, natural ingredients find their way into my dishes.

"I think there's some Spam in the cabinet somewhere, you could fry that up," I responded with a grin. Even Emmett wouldn't eat Spam.

"So, Rosalie said that we're getting some new girl at school tomorrow." Rosalie is Emmett's girlfriend and has a huge fucking mouth and an even larger ego. They've been together forever, though, so I've learned to ignore her. I admit it, she's hot, stacked and curvy, not unlike this eggplant I was currently cutting into thin slices. But I swear, the moment she opened her mouth, I found myself wishing I could punch her in the face.

I really wouldn't ever hit her, or any girl for the matter. I just wish someone could remove the smug sense of superiority that oozed from her very being. Her dad ran the bank in town and the Hales considered themselves part of the elite society of Forks, with the exception of Rose's twin brother, Jasper. I mean, come on, it's Forks, and she saunters around like a fucking Rockefeller or something. Jasper's cool as hell, though. Sometimes we hang out, at parties and shit, get a jam session going. Jasper kills on the guitar.

I glanced up at Emmett. He was staring at me knowingly, nodding his head with this stupid grin. "Yeah, she's from Phoenix. She's probably hot, all tan and toned. I bet she plays volleyball, one of them sporty types. I mean, she has to right? She's from Phoenix."

"Dude, you're an ass." I sighed. Poor girl. I remember when Alice and I moved here, two years ago. You would have thought we were celebrities or something, the way the Forks student body descended upon us like a pack of rabid wolves. It was ridiculous, hearing the whispers, rumors, bullshit stories that glamorized and diminished the truth. Alice bleached her hair blond that week and bought her first pack of Tarot cards. Being the new kid blows, especially in a town like Forks where everyone knows everyone's shit and it's front cover news if the Newton kid gets a hard on.

"Get this, she's Chief Swan's daughter. She's moving here to take care of him, a real Florence fucking Nightingale," Emmett continued. "Ultimate fantasy, dude, a naughty, tan, nurse." He was full on grinning now. "Want me to hook you up?"

I didn't respond. I've found that it's best if you just ignore him, like a bee or a telemarketer. You just crawl up in fetal position until he loses interest and retreats.

Alice was sitting in deep contemplation now, staring out the open window, breathing in the cool, misty night air. I knew what she was thinking. The cards were still lying on the counter in front of her, haphazardly thrown in disarray.

I was pretty familiar with Chief Swan and he'd never mentioned a daughter or any family for that matter. He spent a lot of his time fishing down on the Quileute Reservation with his buddies and he occasionally joined my uncle for barbeque on game day. In fact, he was with my uncle when he had his heart attack. It's lucky as hell that Carlisle was with him, probably saved his life.

My father's brother, Dr. Carlisle Cullen, is a surgeon at Forks Hospital. He grew up with my father in Chicago, but moved out west when things got weird. He met Esme in Seattle, married her and baby Emmett makes three. I think he feels guilty for leaving my dad in Chicago, or something, like this mess could have been avoided. That's Carlisle, trying to analyze this clusterfuck that is life. He fixes shit, and this was something he couldn't fix. That's why he brought me and Alice to live with him, to score a few points with good old Karma. They're great, Carlisle and Esme, really. They try hard to restore that normalcy. They pretend we're just regular teenagers, give us birthday parties and even grounded me once when they found out I ditched school to smoke pot with Jasper Hale.

I know they genuinely love us and that's what is so fucked up about this situation, because it's going to kill them when that bomb goes off. Carlisle tries to remain hopeful and optimistic, telling me I can't possibly know the future, but I do know. You can't fix something that was never whole to begin with. Genetically, I'm fucked.

...

**A/N**

Tarot info courtesy of learntarot[dot]com

Joni songs referenced:

"Clouds"

"Carey"

Please be a dear and review!


	2. I Hate You Some, I Love You Some

Darlings,

And so the two shall meet.

Thank you, **Project Team Beta**, you are my shiny light break in the storm...as Joni would say. I apologize for my incessant misuse of commas and semicolons.

Again, quoted italics are lyrics from **Joni Mitchell** songs.

Disclaimer: I don't own it.

**CH 2 **_**I Hate You Some, I Love You Some**_

**BPOV**

As the cabin pressure dipped and the plane began its descent into Seattle, I glanced longingly at the broad band of blue. The sun was beginning to sink below the hazy cloud cover, igniting the milky barrier in opalescence: "_Ice cream castles in the air_…" The plane quickly became engulfed in the white billows and then a flood of gray and green. The finality of this transition caught in my throat and I stifled a sob, closing my eyes and leaning against the headrest. _Breathe, Bella, damnit. You can handle this_.

I took a cab to my father's house. He had been rushed into emergency surgery last week, spent four days in the hospital and sent home to recover. Four days. They opened his chest, bypassed three of his coronary arteries, harvesting the necessary grafts from a large blood vessel in his leg and sent him home four days later. It seemed a lot to ask of an old, out of shape body.

As the car approached Forks, I felt a strong sense of familiarity and dread. I knew this town. I had lived here for the first ten years of my life, but I was an outsider now. The daughter that the Chief didn't want, offspring of a flighty ex-wife, coming home to nurse her poor hero of a father. I couldn't fathom the random-ass shit I was going to endure tomorrow, my first day of school at Forks High.

And then I was there, in the driveway of that house. It hadn't changed at all. It looked worn and neglected, paint peeling from the wood siding, overgrown foliage covering the windows with green. It looked vacant and still; however, I knew what awaited me inside. My stomach lurched and I felt the nausea brimming, even though there was nothing left to purge.

I unloaded my suitcase from the trunk, paid the fare with the small amount of cash my mom had given me before I left, and keeled over to put my head between my knees. What am I doing here? This is my nightmare; I am walking willfully into my own personal hell. _Stop being an idiot, Bella. Get the fuck in the house, it's freezing out here._

I made my way carefully up the icy path to the front door, pausing often to regain my balance. Sneakers don't have much traction. I am so not prepared for this. I grabbed the knob and taking a deep breath, walked through the door.

A slight musty smell invaded my senses first, then bleach and plastic, the clinical scent of hospital equipment. I searched for the tobacco or the grease, the after shave or even the bread; but I couldn't find a trace of my past here. I must have looked like a moron, moving around the small entry way, sniffing the air.

"Hello?" I called out, setting my suitcase down. I made my way to the living room. It was littered with clothing, books, magazines, piles of mail, and various medical paraphernalia wrapped in pristine plastic. The inside of the house mirrored the exterior and I found myself recalling memories of fishing poles and bear hugs. I looked around again. It wasn't all that different, really, the clutter camouflaging the fact that nothing had changed. Even the furniture was still in the same arrangement. I stared at the couch, velvet and dusty, recalling the hundreds of times I had curled up there with a crocheted afghan and my bowl of Honeycomb to watch Saturday morning cartoons. I realized that not one of these things held any comfort for me now, not the couch or the cartoons and most definitely not the Honeycomb.

Where the hell was everybody? I called out again. "Hello?"

"Isabella?" A soft voice from upstairs called my formal name.

Here we go.

"Yeah." I dragged my feet up the stairs. I made my way to one of the two bedrooms. The Chief was situated in his bed. He was wearing gray sweats and a thin t-shirt and he looked like hell. I mean, really awful. His massive form took up much more of the bed than it should have and his dark hair, interspersed with gray, was sticking to his forehead, a thick mustache overpowering his lips. He had dark black bruises under both eyes and his arms were riddled with puncture wounds. He wasn't anything like I remembered. He was broken and soft, defeat etched across his brow and in the creases of his eyes.

"Bella. I just…It's just Bella…now," I explained, shifting uncomfortably in the small space.

"Billy had to leave, but I expect someone will be coming around soon to bring dinner, so if you're hungry…" he replied quickly.

"Oh. Okay. Is there anything you need me to do, to get?" I hadn't expected this indifference. Charlie was acting like I'd just been up in my room for the last seven years.

"Well, the mail hasn't been attended to and we're pretty much out of groceries; so if you'll be wanting anything special, you'll need to go to the market." He avoided my eyes, looking instead at my shoulder.

"Sure, I can take care of the groceries." That was easy enough. "I can cook too. So, if you want, I can make the meals."

"You can cook?" He was surprised.

"Yeah, I've picked up a few things," I shrugged.

"Okay. Your room is down the hall. I had Sue Clearwater get some things for you. I hope it's okay." I tried to remember the Clearwaters but came up blank.

We stood in silence a bit longer. I was dying to escape that room, but didn't want to seem too anxious.

"Okay. Well, let me know if you need anything." I finally said, moving towards the door.

"I'm glad you're here, Bella." He mumbled to the tiny window.

I left the room then and found the bathroom. I washed my face and ran my fingers through the tangled beast that is my hair. I had to admit, I expected a much bigger confrontation upon our reunion. I foresaw a long, drawn out, epic fight scene, full of dramatic displays of remorse and pained declarations of wrongdoing. I was going to tell him off, tell him exactly how much he had ruined me. But when I saw him helpless, broken, perforated with dependency, I couldn't be the one to shatter him further.

That night, I stepped into my position as caretaker. I cleaned the kitchen and downstairs living room. I found places for things that had no place. I brought Charlie his array of meds when it was time. I met and socialized briefly with the Clearwaters when they had brought the Chief his supper. I did laundry and I sighed at the fact that I was existing here in the exact same fashion as I had in Phoenix. I was tired and satisfied with my offering to Karma when I finally laid down on the purple comforter in the tiny bedroom that had been mine once before.

…

I was still in my clothes from the night before when I awoke. The rain had kept me up most of the night, reminding me of my location. I dragged my sorry, sleepy ass out of bed and went to ready myself for the impending doom that was to ensue this very day. I realized that I hadn't even bothered to unpack last night.

I snuck a peak in Charlie's room. He was asleep, sitting up slightly. The small television was blaring some infomercial for exercise equipment.

I quickly showered and assessed my wardrobe situation. I had a very small selection of jeans and t-shirts to choose from. I settled on my boot-cut jeans and my favorite Stones t-shirt. Yeah, it was old, faded and torn, but it was so molded. You know, forming me perfectly in all the most contented places, a tiny cocoon of comfort without drawing attention to the protruding collarbones or shoulder blades that often raised suspicions. I have to be careful not to look too skinny. People start questioning, figuring shit out.

I examined my face in the mirror. Sallow, sunken in cheeks, and black circles enveloping my dark brown eyes. Forks was going to have a field day. I tried to smooth my unruly hair, but with the misty, humid air of the Olympic Peninsula, I was fighting an uphill battle. I left it down, hopefully it would distract from my face.

I checked in with Charlie. I had no idea how I was going to get to school. I didn't think walking was a viable option, seeing as how I could hardly walk across a flat surface without tripping over my own feet. Charlie was awake now, just staring out the window into misty gray nothingness.

"Umm, so, I have to go to school today. Is anyone…" Charlie interrupted before I could finish.

"There's a truck, in the garage. You can drive that to school. The school's just off the main highway, you'll see a sign." His voice was like gravel. "Sue Clearwater will be here this morning and then Billy Black in the afternoon until you get home from school," he continued.

"Okay. Well, I'm going to leave now." I blurted out. "I mean, I don't want to be late and I don't really know where I'm going so…"

"Drive careful." Charlie wouldn't even look at me. This lack of attention was confusing. Did he really hate me so much that he couldn't stand the sight of me? Or worse, did he not care enough even to hate me? Because it wasn't hate in his expression and voice. It wasn't anything.

"Yeah," was all I could think of to say.

I left quickly, slipping on my sneakers, grabbing my heavy corduroy coat and tote bag, just itching to get out of that house. I found an old, decrepit looking truck in the garage. It smelled like grease and tobacco. The smell was overwhelming, dredging up memories I had kept in a distant pocket of my mind. I almost got out and walked. It really was freaking cold though, and comfort won me over again. The keys were in the ignition and I started it up, blasting the heater.

I pulled into the parking lot at the small school a short while later. Students were starting to arrive in flocks now, exiting their cars and greeting each other with exuberance. I grabbed my tote and made my way to the front office, just trying to blend in. I blasted Joni on my mp3 player, taking solace in the kind and familiar voice. _"Will you take me as I am?"_

…

It was lunch and I was going to hurl. I felt the desperation, that acute awareness of bile swelling in my chest and burning in the back of my throat. I had to get it out. I was suffocating, choking on the insanity of this decision, to do this here at school. A fucking new school, where I haven't acclimated myself to the most convenient or safest place to, um, evacuate.

I should have just told them I wasn't hungry or that I was allergic to milk or something. The day had not been as bad as I thought. Everyone just seemed really curious. I had met a couple of kids. Er, Jennifer? No, Jeanette? Jessica! Her name is Jessica, like the singer, curvy and fake. Then there was Mark… or Mike…? Yes, Mike Newton, like the fig, a chewy fruited cake. Anyway, they seemed nice enough, contrived and ridiculous, yes, but they were helpful. As lunch approached, I knew I would have to handle the situation with some finesse.

After Spanish, Jessica and I walked to the lunchroom. I had gotten a plate of fruit and a bottle of lemonade from the lunch counter and followed Jessica to sit at their table, fully intending on eating some grapes and tossing the rest. Fruits and vegetables affected me the least; I could usually keep a couple carrot sticks or apple slices down. This appeased any overly perceptive onlookers. I whipped out my reading material and tried to casually look like I was eating, just very slowly, on account of me being so utterly immersed in my classic literature. The guy, Mike, was acting a bit more enthralled with my existence than I cared for and kept commenting on how skinny I was, how petite, minuscule, tiny, ugh, shut up! I mean really, who fucking says that to someone they've barely met?

Then they started asking questions about my mom, Phoenix, my dad, and I just couldn't take it. One of them, Tyler something-or-other, made some comment about how I need to eat and threw a slice of pizza across the table and onto my plate. I just ate it. Partially to shut them up, but a small part of me just wanted to be normal with them, eat fucking pizza and not have to punish myself.

And now I was frantically searching for a secluded bathroom, somewhere that looked like it remained pretty vacant. I found a girls restroom towards the back of the school, behind the science building. I catapulted myself through the door of the first stall and heaved into the toilet. This was a new low, curling over a public toilet, my knees on the cool, grimy tile. I didn't even want to touch the thing. The thought in itself brought on a new wave of nausea and I wretched again. I stilled, panting and spitting into the bowl. I grabbed some cheap, public restroom, toilet paper and wiped my mouth.

I walked out of the stall and the tiniest pixie of a girl was standing in front of me. Her small frame was wrapped in soft gauze, her peasant blouse flowing around her. Long sleeves hid her tiny fingers, which seemed to be clutching onto a bundle of silk. She wore flared jeans that looked vintage, secondhand, patched and embroidered with delicate flowers. Her small feet donned a pair of black Doc Marten boots, scuffed and wrinkled, and a large paisley bag slung sloppily over her shoulder.

Her face was some sort of stunning. Not the beautiful you find in a magazine, but ethereal and wispy, not of this planet. She gazed past her perfectly pointy nose at me, her cool jade eyes surveying the situation. She brought her empty hand to her black tuft of hair, scratching her head, not removing her eyes.

"Tough day, huh?" She spoke, a chiming soprano and immediately I was comforted. _"Little Green, be a gypsy dancer,"_Joni's words rang in my peripheral.

"I'm allergic to milk." I blurted out, moving to the sink, washing my hands and rinsing my mouth. I'd been caught like this before, back in Phoenix. The best thing to do is to pretend like nothing out of the ordinary is happening. People don't usually see the obvious. So I don't know why I had decided to lie, to fake a cover. Something told me she was well informed, intuition thick in her deep eyes.

"You want a smoke?" She casually reached in her bag pulling out a crumpled pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

"Yeah, sure." Anything to get that taste out of my mouth. I placed the slender, papery, cylinder between my lips, lighting it swiftly and inhaling deeply, the smoke swirling around me as I exhaled. It was no peppermint, but it would do.

She stepped into a stall and balancing on the toilet, popped open the two small windows that butted up against the ceiling. Her cigarette was dangling from the corner of her lips, her silk parcel still in her fist.

"This bathroom's the best for school day smokes. They forgot to install a smoke detector in here and if you leave the windows open, you can hardly even smell the smoke." The girl mumbled, the cigarette bobbing as she talked. She jumped gracefully to the floor in front of me and lit her cigarette quickly, taking a long pull and whispering an exhale.

"I'm Alice. Alice Cullen," She stood against the tile wall, leaning casually between the stall and the paper towel dispenser.

"Bella," I took another drag, flicking the ash before exhaling.

"Did you just move here Bella?" Alice eyed me inquisitively. She looked too young to be in high school and why was she smoking? Kids shouldn't smoke.

"Yeah, I'm here to help my dad." It sounded like a question. "How old are you Alice?"

"Sixteen," She puffed that cigarette like she'd been smoking for years, not wasting one drag. I'd hung out with girls who pretended to smoke, you know, to look sexy or whatever. They usually wasted the whole fucking cigarette, just standing there, holding on to it, letting the ash accumulate while it burned. Not Alice. She quickly finished, tossing her butt in the toilet, and produced a fresh cigarette in seconds, lighting it and inhaling in the same fashion as before.

"Don't you think you're a little too young to smoke?" I asked her, a double standard I know. She just looked so young; like thirteen or fourteen, and that was because of her eye makeup. Could you imagine watching a thirteen-year-old gulping cigarettes like a chain smoker? It was borderline disturbing.

"Don't you think you're a little too old to be puking on the first day of school?" She retorted, acknowledging my hypocrisy.

I grinned at that, because she was so dead on. I was relieved that she passed my "episode" off as first day jitters. I didn't want to lie to her again. I liked her; she was someone I could easily be friends with.

She finished her cigarette, disposing of the evidence as before and shoved her stuff in her large bag. She made to leave, pausing at the door.

"I'll see you around Bella." She said lazily as she walked out the door.

I quickly finished and like Alice, tossed the butt in the toilet and flushed. I made my way back to the lunchroom, searching for my tote. Luckily, my bag was still in the empty lunchroom, hidden under the chair I'd been sitting in. I grabbed the bag and searched for a peppermint. I slipped one in my mouth and pulled out my mp3 player, immersing myself in piano and soft melodies. _"And her coat's a secondhand one…"_

There was no way in hell I was walking into my next class now that I was unforgivably late. Advanced Biology would have to wait until tomorrow. I sat in my truck the rest of the day, reading and listening, and just folding in on myself.

…

**EPOV**

The school had been a buzz of electricity all day. Every inch of the small campus was humming with excitement, all because of some stupid girl. I hated to be one to give in to preconceived notions, but if Emmett was correct in his assumptions, the whole of Forks had been anticipating a mindless, vacant plaything. I had seen them earlier, in-between classes, walking a little too close to the new girl, trying to place some unspoken claim. Tap, tap, she's mine and shit.

It was pathetic, like she was the last good shovel at the sandbox, a shiny, new toy brought out for show and tell and they all wanted a chance to hold and fondle the acquisition. The girls were hoping she would become their best friend, making them marginally cooler by adding a sense of mystery. The males, well, they just want to play doctor with the naughty nurse. It's really hard to find new people to date in a town like Forks. The dating pool is like a carousel, going round and round, everyone just swapping ponies. And though I didn't want to admit it, I'd even taken a ride or two. Rosalie, my cousin's girlfriend, was also my first kiss. It didn't mean anything, at all. We were at Jessica Stanley's 15th birthday party and like a dumb fuck, I got tricked into playing spin the bottle. Because that's what kids in Forks do to get off, they take turns kissing each other.

I didn't really get a good look at the new girl. She was constantly surrounded by Stanley and her cronies and there was no way I was going near that. Fake-ass bitches. Mike Newton looked like he was going to blow a load right there in the lunch room. She was smaller than I had anticipated and her hair was dark, keeping her face hidden. She just looked average, like an ordinary girl. I really couldn't see what all the fuss was about.

Alice seemed to be unusually interested in this new girl, Isabella, I think I had heard someone call her. She kept craning her neck, trying to catch a glimpse of her face. She was also fiddling with her cards again. I shot her a warning glance, _put them the fuck away_, I was trying to tell her. She just glared at me and tossed the bundle in her bag, took out a bag of carrot sticks and proceeded to munch.

"Well, personally, I don't see what everyone's so worked up about." Rosalie declared, trying to sound indifferent. Rosalie was pissed. This was probably the first time that Newton, did not eyeball her ass as she sauntered into the lunchroom. "I mean, she's nothing to look at. Like literally, there's nothing to her. She looks malnourished, like one of those Sally Struthers commercials. She doesn't even have boobs, for Christ's sake."

"Babe, she's just new; it'll wear off." Emmett took another rather pointed look at the new girl. "Yeah, you're right. No boobs." He looked disappointed, naughty nurse fizzling away. Rosalie just glared at him, smacking his massive bicep with her flat palm.

Jasper, Rosalie's brother, entered the lunchroom, taking a detour so he could pass Stanley and her new project. He casually walked over to our table, hands in his pockets.

"Hey, Rose, give me your keys." Jasper sat down next to Alice, facing Rosalie. He glanced sideways at my sister so quickly, if I hadn't been looking in his direction I would have missed it. Alice just looked down at her bag and…blushed? Was she fucking blushing?

"Why the hell would I give you my keys, Jasper? You know you're not allowed to drive my car, or anything else for the matter." Rosalie smiled sweetly at her twin. Jasper used to ride this Ducati, but last month, after a night of substance induced stupor, he accidentally--or maybe it was intentional, you really can't tell with Jasper--drove it through the front window of the only Walgreens for miles. The geriatric community was in an uproar. Jasper got off easy, community service, thanks in part to a large donation on behalf of the Hale family to the Forks Senior Center.

"I just need to get my shit out of the trunk." Jasper brought his hands to the table, leaning forward. "I'll bring them right back."

Alice quietly got up from her chair. "I'll see you guys around. I gotta use the little girl's room," she said lightly and skipped out of the lunchroom.

"I swear Jasper, if you so much as breathe on the ignition, I'm telling mom about the porn and the pot and your little gir-," Jasper stood up, making his chair scrape loudly against the linoleum.

"All right! Fuck! Do you have to be such a bitch all the time?" Jasper interrupted. Rosalie threw her keys at him, hitting him in the chest. He fumbled to catch them before they fell to the floor, then turned, raised his hand slightly in the air and flipped her off as he walked out of the lunch room.

"Hey, where'd Stanley's pet go?" Rosalie was trying not to obviously stare at the table the new girl was no longer occupying.

I smirked to myself, turning to look at the table. Apparently, even the best of us get caught up at the sandbox.

…

Alice met me at the Volvo and I drove her home after school. I had to go to the market to get some ingredients for dinner. At some point in the past two years, I had taken over the cooking duties. When I first moved here, Carlisle had thought the culinary classes would be a good outlet for my…behavior. He signed Alice and I up for this vocational program, designed for high school students suffering from all kinds of shit; mental illness, abuse, traumatic loss. I just kind of had a knack for cooking.

After the program ended, I started watching Food Network, learning everything I could about special techniques and how to choose ingredients, blend flavors and use spices. I learned about the chemistry of cooking, which foods were acidic and which were basic, which unions complimented each other and which were fucking disasters. It was a distraction and I was able to distract the people around me without really having to even talk to them. As long as I was cooking, Carlisle and Esme felt I was stable, interacting, and functioning in society: normal. It was all I had to offer, because God knows I wasn't going to _discuss_ any of this shit with them. They'd have me back on those meds in a mad rush and I can't cook all catatonic.

Pulling from my musing, I parked at the local organic market and pulled a shopping cart from the pile. I had to focus now. Grocery shopping is my favorite part of cooking. All the possibilities piled in neat, tidy rows of inspiration. I was in my element, searching the fresh produce first. I walked slowly down each aisle, choosing carefully, inspecting tomatoes for blemishes, peeling away layers of onion, smelling the fresh basil, oregano and thyme, filling my cart with raw materials for my masterpieces.

I was thoroughly engrossed in choosing a basket of strawberries when a soft, tiny form slammed into my back. I pitched forward into the display, crushing several containers of berries in the process.

"Shit!" I heard a low oath behind me. I spun around to find myself staring down at a thick tangle of mahogany hair. "Shit, I'm sorry. I'm just…shit." She was staring down at the ground, her delicate face a soft shade of pink.

I took the lack of eye contact as an opportunity to scrutinize the small figure that had just assaulted me in the produce aisle of the grocery store. She was pulling at her fingers, twisting the tips of each digit over and over again, her tiny wrists twirling gently. She had tons of almost black hair, cascading down the middle of her back overpowering and deeply contrasting her pale, heart-shaped face. Her full bottom lip was caught between her teeth and my gaze lingered here, my eyes intent on her plump pink lip, her white teeth gently pressing, accentuated with the tiniest gap. She was skinny, too skinny, her jeans hanging low on her hips, her shirt two sizes too big, emblazoned with a big set of red lips and that signature tongue.

"A fan of the classics?" I asked with a smirk.

"Huh?" She finally looked up at me. Her wide expansive eyes were velvet, smooth and brown, framed by dark feathery lashes, the skin of her lids and cheekbones shadowed. Her gaze was unrestraining and penetrating, as if I had never really been seen before this moment. I was overcome with the desire to see the world through these eyes, these ever reaching portals, jealous of the minute facets they must be able to detect and infiltrate. My breath sort of caught in my chest as I lost my focus, inching closer to her, trying to find the bottom of those deep pools. Energy was palpable in the atmosphere, radiating and humming, so thick I could feel every tiny hair on my body stand on end. And then I could smell her, floral, sweet, organic and natural, like lavender blooming in the spring.

Tap, Tap, she's mine…

She gasped and then exhaled, blanketing my face with warm peppermint, her eyes narrowed inquisitively. "Do I know you? Your eyes…I've seen them. Before. I mean, they're familiar." She shook her head, closing her lids.

I pursed my lips, "I don't think so." No, I would have remembered that meeting, just as surely as I would not forget this one.

"Hmmm," she shook her head again waving her hand, "Never mind."

I stepped back, gathering myself and looked down as well, running a hand through my hair, smoothing it from my face. "Your shirt. The Stones, right" I explained myself.

"Oh. Right, classic." She smiled a small smile and glanced up swiftly through the safety of her lashes, flushing pink and rosy again. "Sorry I crashed into you. I tripped."

"You're Chief Swan's daughter, Isabella?" Jesus, I hope that's her name. I internally kicked myself for losing my feigned nonchalance.

"Just Bella." She looked down again. Why won't she look at me?

"Bella, is that Italian?" I inquired, trying to meet her gaze.

"I guess so." She bit that damn lip again, forcing my eyes there.

"Well Bella, it was nice, er, being assaulted by you this afternoon?" I was trying to be funny and failing miserably. Why wouldn't my brain tell my mouth to shut the fuck up?

She grimaced. "Sorry, I shouldn't be let out of the house. I'm a danger to everyone around me, including myself."

I snorted; she looked about as dangerous as a small kitten, a tiny, awkward, soft, warm kitten.

Holy hell, I'm making gaga eyes at this girl and equating her with kittens and flowers. I had to get this shit under control.

"Well, I'll see you around, Bella." I said quickly. I didn't want to be a dick, but I couldn't drag her into this mess. She'd be running for the hills if she knew about the ticking bomb, constantly set to self-destruct.

I grabbed some strawberries and tried to hightail it out of there, but she called to me as I was leaving.

"Hey! What's your name?"

I stopped. This is a bad idea. Pretend you didn't hear her and avoid her like the plague that you are.

But I couldn't do that, now could I? Because my life wasn't fucked up enough as it is, because I was beginning to realize I had no control against the gravity pulling me to her, magnetic, stars aligning, cosmic bullshit or whatever, and because all I could think about was her warm body pressed up against me, filling me up. I stopped.

"Edward. Edward Cullen." I quickly made my way through the checkout line and rushed home. I had to see Alice.

…

"Alice?" I walked in the door, carrying the groceries to the kitchen and setting them on the counter. I ran to the stairs. "Alice?"

"Edward, what's wrong?" Esme appeared at the top of the stairs.

"Nothing." Everything. "I just need to ask Alice something."

"She's not here. She went for a walk." Esme eyed me carefully. "Are you okay?"

"What do you mean, she went for a walk? Since when does she go for walks?" Shit, we needed to do this now, before I chickened out.

"She's been doing this for weeks now. She says it clears her head, "It soothes my soul" were her words, I believe. You know how she is," she shrugged.

Esme was always the portrait of calm, care, and patience. She used to be an interior decorator, but she quit her job when Alice and I came to live here. She said she wanted to focus on us, that being a mom was a fulltime job, and one she didn't take lightly. And she didn't, she treated us exactly like she treated her own son, Emmett. She loved us all equally, giving of herself everything she could and I respected the hell out of her. But she wasn't my mother. My mother was in a cemetery in Chicago.

I turned, leaving Esme at the top of the stairs, and walked back to the kitchen, removing the groceries from the bags and putting them in their proper places. I was making a Vegetable Lasagna tonight, which takes an hour or so to cook, so I quickly sharpened the blade of my knife and started chopping the vegetables. Zucchini, eggplant, tomatoes, onions, bell peppers, mushrooms, and fresh spinach, my knife whirled through them in minutes. I was getting quite accomplished in slicing, cubing and mincing but Julienning was still a bitch. Luckily, lasagna doesn't require tiny sticks of veggies, so my cuts were perfect and swift.

I pulled out the leftover sauce from the night before and then mixed the ricotta and shredded the mozzarella. I had just put on a large pot of water to boil when I heard the front door open and close.

Alice glided into the kitchen, slightly flushed, from walking I guess. Her cheeks were pink, her blush reminding me of my initial urgency to see her.

"Hey," she said lazily and plopped herself onto the counter.

"Hey," I replied. My earlier frantic demeanor had been silenced by the therapeutic relief of cutting shit up. I didn't know how to ask her now.

"Seen anything interesting lately?" I hedged, hoping she'd figure it out.

She looked at me, confused. "I saw the Crowley's cat licking its balls on our front porch." Apparently, I was going to have to be more direct.

"No, Alice, have you _seen_ anything?" I emphasized the word and pointed to the middle of my forehead, indicating the psychic, all-seeing third eye. Alice loves that shit, astrology, palm reading, tarot cards. She thinks she's psychic and I'll admit she's been right on more than one occasion.

"Um, what are you talking about? Does it say "Fuck You" on your forehead or something?" Oh my God, how could she not get it.

"Fuck, Alice, can you read your cards for me?" I just came out and asked because I only had an hour. I put the noodles and a bit of olive oil into the boiling water.

"Oh! Oh, I get it, third eye, right." Alice jumped off the counter and went up the stairs. She returned in a few moments with her cards, neatly wrapped in a silk scarf. She unbound the cards, laying the scarf delicately on the countertop.

"No longer a skeptic?" she asked as she shuffled the cards. She called it "seasoning" but it looked like plain old poker shuffling to me.

"I'm just curious. I think it'd be interesting if you could predict something actually before it happened." I smiled at my sister, stirring the boiling noodles.

"If you're going to make fun, I'm not going to do this." Alice took her "craft" very seriously.

"I'm joking. I really am curious." I pulled the barely cooked noodles from the water and rinsed them in the sink. "Besides, you know you're dying to do it."

"Okay, okay. Enough." She took a couple deep breaths, the cards still in her hand. "Edward, I want you to open your mind and ask a question. You can ask it out loud or keep it to yourself, but I'm going to ask that you meditate on this question for the duration of the reading."

I rolled my eyes. Alice has read for everyone; Emmett, Esme, Carlisle and even Rosalie. I have never explicitly asked her to read for me, like this. Sometimes she would perform these "random readings," as she called them, like the one yesterday. She claimed that those readings were brought on by some inexplicable inspiration, something beyond this realm. Alice thought they were more powerful, more meaningful because they didn't pertain to anything in particular. I'll admit, they were far more intense than the readings I'd seen her perform for our family. The random readings caused her to slip into an almost trancelike state, voicing the first connection to the card that came to mind. That's why she wrote them in her notebook, so she could compare her predictions with actual events, to gauge accuracy.

It was all just a real tough pill to swallow; that the random placing of cards could bear some indication on the future. And it was just so subjective. Any reader could interpret the cards based on what the subject wanted to know. But I was in foreign territory, with this whole "feelings" thing. I was fucking desperate here. After the encounter with Bella in the grocery store, I wasn't sure I could count anything out anymore, because if anything is more skeptical than fortune telling, it's love-at-first-sight.

I mentally scolded myself for using the "L" word. How can you love someone you've only spoken to once? "You know I'm not going to say it out loud," I said to Alice, who was now spreading all the cards out in front of her on the scarf, raking her fingers through them, mixing the up.

Alice sighed. "It would make it so much easier! Please?"

"No way." No way in hell was I going to tell her what I was thinking about. She'd be laughing her ass off for weeks.

"Alright, "ask" away." Alice rolled her eyes at me before closing them.

I knew what I wanted to ask. It constantly affected every decision I made, forcing me to live as a shell of a human being, reigning over my emotions. That bomb, ready to go off any day now…

_Will I hurt Isabella Swan?_

I meditated on this phrase and I began piling the layers of noodles, cheeses, sauce and veggies, my fingers working; rhythmic and automatic. And Alice began laying the cards.

"I'm going to use the cross spread tonight, because this is a special reading, isn't it?" Damn her and her intuition.

"Just read the cards, Alice, before I change my mind."

"Shhhh." She continued laying out six cards to form a cross, the first two crossing in the middle and four cards in a vertical line beside the cross.

She turned over the center card first.

"The Fool, the beginning of something. You're expanding your horizons." She grinned at me, giving me an old at-a-boy. I rolled my eyes. This was a mistake.

"Second position represents conditions or obstacles." She flipped the card. "High Priestess, secrets and hiding." She quirked an eyebrow.

"Are you going to look at me like that after every card? I have to finish dinner you know, this can't take all night." I had just put the lasagna into the oven and was quickly gathering the ingredients for strawberry shortcake.

She went back to the cards, ignoring my remark, however she didn't look up any longer. She focused now on the cards.

"The Star, you hope to open your heart, to see the path clear."

"Eight of Wands, you have already begun to see how fast it can happen."

"Nine of Pentacles, your past is full of self control and discipline but the future," she flipped another card, "the Lovers, being sexual yet determining values."

She stopped. I'm sure I was 10 shades of green at this point, but when she read that last one, I almost dropped the knife I was using to chop the berries.

"So, you're finally going to get laid, Edward." Alice was laughing. "Halle-fucking-lujah!"

"I don't think real psychics can use that kind of language with their clients." She's such a pain-in-the-ass.

"Okay, sorry. It was just too easy." She cleared her throat and continued with the cards.

"Okay, your attitude suggests a realization or downfall, The Tower." She frowned at me, slowly flipping the next card. I was frowning as well, I was regretting asking her to do this.

"The Two of Wands, your family and friends think you brilliant and vital, they believe in your worth." She smiled softly now, no longer joking. "We really do, Edward."

She flipped the ninth card, "The Devil. It's not bad though, it just means that you fear being obsessed, afraid of the unknown."

She hesitated with the last card. "This is about a girl, huh?"

I wanted to tell her, to share this with her, but I didn't know yet what to think of these feelings, things I've never really felt before. Okay, so I kissed Rosalie in the ninth grade, I got a hand job from Lauren Mallory in the movie theater during sophomore year and Jessica Stanley sucked my dick at her party a couple months ago, effectively ending any further alcohol consumption, ever. That was it. Three girls, one of which is now dating my cousin. I am a seventeen-year-old virgin. I think I may be the _only_ seventeen-year-old virgin. I am why the porn industry is thriving.

But I had never felt _this_, this overwhelming compulsion to be near someone. I wanted to kiss her so bad in that produce aisle, to touch her, tangle my fingers in her hair, protect her, _love_ her…and I don't want to love anything because things that I love get hurt, broken, destroyed. How can I feel this after only a minute's meeting? How can 5 minutes of awkward conversation fuck me up so badly?

No, I couldn't tell Alice because I couldn't let this happen. I had to avoid Isabella Swan, deny every pull of my being, and pretend she didn't exist. She was a force, gravity, sheer magnetism and I would destroy that. I would crush her very essence, because that is what explosives do. Compressed and encased, I was just fucking waiting for that electrical impulse to trigger the fuse, detonating an explosion and sending shrapnel into everything around me. I had to make sure the blast wouldn't reach her.

"When has it ever been about a girl?" I asked my sister. She just scowled at me and flipped the last card.

"This is the culmination of all the other cards, the outcome." She looked at the card and paused.

She scrutinized the card, tilting her head to the side. "The Emperor, fathering, establishing a family line, but it's upside down, see? That means it's reversed, or not expressed completely or normally." She looked up, sadly now.

"You'll find someone. They're just cards, Edward, a game."

I just kept cutting, the blade slicing into the thick red berries, reminding me of Bella's bottom lip and the indentation from her white teeth.

Alice was trying to reassure me that I would, what, be a _father_ someday? It didn't matter if I would end up hurting Bella or not, because apparently I wouldn't get the chance. Shit, this is way over my head. All I could focus on were the words, _not expressed completely or normally_. I wasn't complete or normal. I am defective, malfunctioning, flawed, my own hypothalamus plotting my destruction. Alice may be psychic after all.

**A/N**

So, I'm not an expert in Tarot, just a little versed. I'm using the site for reference: learntarot[dot]com

Just in case anyone's interested, Joni Mitchell songs quoted: Ladies of the Canyon, Little Green, California and Clouds

And please, my dears, leave a review! Don't make me use the Jedi mind trick...you want to leave a review...

Oh and thank you to my darling family members that did leave reviews...lovelies!


	3. And if you care, Don't let them know

Darlings,

I have to say I am overwhelmed by lovely reviews from you readers and such kindness from the gems at **The Twilight Sisterhood**, esp **britpacksuccubus**, for recommending my story! I found a new support group lately, and have to send my love to **Jezzeria** for setting that up for us addicts. Also, my main squeeze, **n7of9** for pimping my fic and for the lovely lickable pics of Rob. And **misforMarisa**, your icons are so amazing, I'm getting greedy! More!

The dears over at **Project Team Beta** are magic, and I promise to read up on semicolons and commas. It's just so damn confusing.

All Bella this time. Don't worry, Edward will get his turn.

Disclaimer: I don't own it.

**CH. 3 ****"**_**And if You Care, Don't Let Them Know"** _(Joni owns me and these lyrics as well)

**BPOV**

I am such an idiot. I cannot believe I fell into him. I was in the produce aisle, planning on slipping in to get a basket of strawberries when the toe of my sneaker caught on the lip of a plastic mat. I hit him hard, my chin slamming into the center of his back, causing my teeth to knock together, and stunning me momentarily.

But that was nothing compared to the pain of the humiliation I experienced when _he_ turned around. I don't even remember what I said, probably mumbled a slur of profanities, refusing to meet his eyes, hoping I could just grab the baneful berries and leave.

My proximity allowed me to catch the fragrance emanating from his entire being and at once I was overwhelmed. He smelled absolutely delicious, almost herbal, like lilac infused honey warming in the summer sun. I inhaled deeply, attempting to fill my head with his invigorating aroma as I stifled a contented sigh. My head was clouded and I struggled to remain lucid.

Then he spoke, velvet oozing from those lips, smoldering and musical with a hint of a smirk in his voice. I didn't register what he had said, just relished in the quiet beauty and prayed he would speak again.

I was still staring at the floor, noticing his plain, black sneakers blending in with his slightly snug black jeans. My gaze moved involuntarily upward, and my eyes were forced to follow. His white, threadbare T-shirt clung to every ripple of his lean stomach and chest, a light trail of hair peaking between his collarbones. He was wearing a black and white plaid shirt, unbuttoned, and a blue industrial jacket. I took in every inch of his tall, lanky frame, chewing my lip to keep from running my hands across his sculpted stature.

I finally met his face and luckily the human body is equipped with an involuntary muscular system for lung, heart and brain function, because as soon as his eyes filled mine, I was unable to control anything. My autonomic nervous system took over, quickening my heart rate, making breathing unbearable, dilating my pupils, and I'll let you guess which of the four "F's" I was leaning towards_. "You turn me on, I'm a radio…"_

He was just so agonizingly beautiful. His strong jaw was covered in stubble, his full lips, smirking, revealing perfectly even white teeth. He had dark eyebrows, heavily resting on the most viscous green eyes I'd ever seen. I tried to participate in the verbal exchange but I couldn't find the words, which was painfully obvious as I faltered through the calamity of conversation. I watched him bring his graceful fingers to his hair, and immediately I was envious of that hand and the gentle, nurturing caresses it bestowed on the tangle of browns and reds. His hair swirled and flowed in gentle waves and curls, and my fingers trembled to reach out and stroke it. _"I want to talk to you, I want to shampoo you…"_Joni's words were flooding through me now, adding a delicate soundtrack.

"Your shirt. The Stones, right?" He was looking at my shirt. I suddenly wished I wasn't so lacking in the mammary department. I seriously have no boobs, my body stuck in pre-pubescence. I hardly even wore a bra anymore. I could feel the exposing blush creeping up my neck and flooding my cheeks. I mumbled more apologies, feeling utterly idiotic and foolish.

"You're Chief Swan's daughter, Isabella?" He knows my name? Holy shit. He continued to try to make awkward small talk, and maybe even attempted to flirt. It was all lost though, because I just couldn't help but focus on the shapes his lips were making as he spoke; his melodious voice soft and quiet, easy and natural.

And then he was leaving. His face was contorted, a sneer playing on his lips now. He tossed a basket of strawberries in the cart and stalked off. What the hell? Did I say something offensive? I couldn't even tell you if I had. I was so completely befuddled by his mere presence, the ability to recall my previous behavior eluded me. Fucking pathetic. I didn't even know his name. I had to stop him, and I struggled to find my voice.

"Hey! What's your name?" Stupid, stupid, stupid Bella._"Be prepared to bleed…"_

The beautiful boy stopped and turned, distress intensifying his lovely features.

"Edward. Edward Cullen." And he hurried off before I could ask anything else of him.

Cullen? Cullen? I knew I'd seen those eyes before. The chick from the restroom; tiny little smoker girl. They have to be related, probably siblings? Same pale skin, same green eyes, same amazing bone structure. I was pretty sure he went to my school, seeing as how I had puked in front of his maybe sister in the ladies room earlier today.

Edward quickly rushed through the checkout line and was gone before I had made my way down the next aisle.

I just sighed, drowning in a self-pity cocktail; one part defeat, one part acceptance. How could someone like that even entertain an interest in someone like me? I mean, I had dated a couple guys back in Phoenix. I'd never had a real boyfriend or anything, thanks to my superb sense of self preservation. I just didn't want that rejection, and here it was, staring me in the face, mocking my futile attempts to remain unaltered by the exchange that I just had with that enigma of a human being.

Of course Edward Cullen would jet like that. Looking at it from his point of view, he was accosted and ogled, probably worried I was going to follow him out to the parking lot so I could smell him some more. It only solidified my resolve that a guy like that would date a beauty; someone sweet and perfect. I'm not exceptionally charismatic or witty. I'm not feminine or pretty or oozing with sexuality. I'm completely fucked up, with daddy issues and eating disorders, not to mention I have the body of a ten-year-old and a wicked case of the clumsies.

I quickly finished my shopping, trying to push that boy from my brain, and regain the shred of dignity that I had harbored for so long: detachment. If I don't care, they can't hurt me. It is my mantra, my solace, my poise. I am a Zen monk when it comes to love.

…

When I got to Charlie's house, I started a big pot of vegetable soup. When I was little and we had lived with Charlie, he had cooked our meals. I had learned a bit from him, like how to boil pasta and make a simple marinara. After we left, I began cooking my own meals. Renee was either working or too busy to cook, opting for a vast arrangement of chemically engineered and steroid infested garbage. I mean, I was eleven and I knew that shit wasn't good for me. I quickly learned how to make the basics, checking cookbooks out of the public library. After ninth grade, I stopped cooking, not really necessitating it any longer. Anything I could eat now didn't take much preparing and what was the use of putting all that effort into cooking a meal when I would inevitably end up puking it up later anyway?

When I finished the soup, I took some to Charlie, who was still upstairs in his room. He hadn't left that room, aside from bathroom breaks, since I'd gotten here. Charlie had been eating, sleeping, and sitting in that same spot. I knew he needed to get up, move around, but I couldn't find my place to voice this concern. That would require empathy and I just didn't want to give it. Don't get me wrong, I felt sympathy for his situation: a big, tough Chief reduced to a helpless, mopey invalid. He was incapacitated and dependent, unable to return to his position of proficiency. I knew Charlie loved being a cop, so much so he was able to totally disregard his wife and child to climb his professional ladder. I felt sorry for him, as a human being; but I couldn't feel care for him, as my father. So I would care for everything else. I would cook and clean and leave the majority of _his_ care to his friends, his real family: Billy Black and the Clearwater's. It would be a comfortable arrangement, almost like I was house-sitting or a maid or something. This I could handle.

That evening I had to call Renee. I hadn't spoken with her since I got on that plane yesterday. I didn't really want to have this conversation. I knew it would be long, and full of questions that my answers wouldn't satisfy. Talking to Renee had turned tedious; I constantly struggled to find words that wouldn't raise any "red flags".

Finally, after exhausting all possible household duties, I dialed my mom's cell.

Renee answered, breathless and laughing. I could tell she'd been smoking.

"Hello?" My mom giggled into the phone.

"Mom, it's Bella."

"Bella! Hi, honey, I was going to call you. I just thought you needed a little time with Charlie," she soothed over the receiver. Yeah, why would a teenage girl going to live with her father that she hasn't seen in years need to talk to her mom? My mother was so clueless sometimes. "How is everything? How's Charlie?" Renee continued.

"Everything's fine, Mom. School's okay, boring, whatever. Charlie's recovering. He has help so I basically just take care of things around the house."

"The house? What does it look like? Is it still the same?" Renee was prying.

"Yeah, it looks the same, Mom." I sighed because this fact made it painfully obvious that Charlie had been sitting in the same position not only for the last two days, but for the last seven years. Everything in that house was the same as it had been the day we left. The pictures on the walls and mantle created a timeline of my childhood. Their wedding picture, still hung on the wall, was covered in a small film of dust and bruising behind the frame. The painted cabinets in the kitchen were yellowed and chipped, doors hanging slightly opened, and in need of new hinges. The stove stood abandoned, dusted over from lack of use. He must not cook anymore and I found myself wondering why. The old, secondhand furniture that they had purchased as newlyweds still furnished the living room. Even my bedroom still had the rocking chair my father had used to read me stories, play me songs on the guitar, and just fucking rock me to sleep.

"Bella, honey, are you there?" Yeah, I'm here. Barely.

"Yeah, Mom, I'm here." I needed to change the subject. "So how's packing going?"

"Oh, you know, slow. I have a lot of stuff packed away in this little house! I'm just taking it one day at a time. Phil's been great though, so helpful."

Phil doesn't really have a job, so he's around a lot.

"That's great, Mom." It was silent for a moment.

"Bella, are you eating?" Wow, is that concern in her voice?

"Right now, no. We had dinner earlier, though." I decided to be evasive. I don't really like to lie, explicitly anyways because I'm terrible at it, and I knew I couldn't fool her.

"Bella, don't be a smart ass." She saw through my articulated façade.

"I'm trying to eat, Mom. I had some fruit today, and a piece of pizza." And then I threw it up.

"Pills?" My mom pressed. Geez, what was this, twenty-questions? I really wasn't surprised, but it was annoying all the same.

"Mom, where could I even get pills out here?" Where _could_ I get pills out here? I didn't really need them for the hunger anymore, but they did help me focus, making me feel productive by providing a little burst of liveliness in my otherwise sluggish step.

"Bella, I mean it, you'd better not be doing any of that shit anymore. Your dad needs you and I would die if something happened to you." Smoking weed always made her a bit overdramatic.

"Mom, relax. I'm fine. Everything's fine." I tried to assuage her fears. "I met some people, they're really nice. You know, just kinda cool." I hoped that sounded convincing.

"Okay, honey. You call if you need anything. I love you, baby," my mom gushed.

"Okay, love you too. Bye Mom." I hung up, exhausted from the exchange. I walked down the hall to see if Charlie needed anything before I went to bed. He was watching a baseball game, still in the same clothes from yesterday.

"Dad, you okay? Need anything?" I asked quietly, trying not to intrude.

He seemed surprised to hear me, slowly turning his gaze to mine, and looking me full in the face for the first time since I'd arrived. He stared at me for a moment, some foreign emotion that I couldn't place creeping behind his irises. I shifted in my stance, a bit uncomfortable with even this level of intimacy.

"I'm fine, Bella," he finally replied. He turned to watch his game again.

I started to leave, pausing in the doorway. "Good night, Dad," I said softly.

He didn't respond.

That night I showered and tried to find something to wear to school. I was going to have to break down and go shopping, maybe find a thrift store or something. I settled on my jeans again and a long sleeve thermal. I was going to have to do laundry every night this week at this rate.

When I finally lay down to sleep, wrapped in flannel, my empty abdomen aching in triumph, I found my mind replaying the encounter with Edward Cullen over and over again, like some depraved mp3 player set on repeat meant to torment me. I wondered if I would see him tomorrow at school, and if he would remember me. He had known my name, making me hopeful that maybe I wasn't as inconsequential as I felt.

Then I remembered that _everyone_ at school today had known my name, and it wasn't because they were smitten by my mere presence or mildly obsessed with me. It was because I was a freak, a scandal, someone new to toy with. I was only special out of circumstances beyond my control and that shit wasn't going to last. Pretty soon, they will forget me. They will realize that I'm just some dumb-shit girl, boring old brown Bella.

Edward will forget. It will be like I never existed, like we never shared that moment in the produce section of the market. And it was a moment, I had to be honest about that, even to myself. I had felt…_it_, and I'm not sure what _it_ is exactly, but it was intense and confusing. I wanted nothing more than to wrap myself in _it_, drowning and immersing in his scent, giving myself over to him completely.

Needing a distraction from my own inner monologue, I slipped my headphones into my ears and searched for Joni, _"I found someone to love today…"_

…

When I awoke in the morning, I just had to lay there a moment to remember where I was and what I was doing here. My sleep had been filled with visceral and surreal dreams, all of them involving Edward Cullen. I grasped to the fading imagery, a fantastic tapestry of black and white, oceans of thick green hues engulfing and tumbling, legs flailing and arms grasping as we refused to break the surface. The scent of strawberries and honey and lilac was so authentic that as I awoke, I licked my lips to see if I could still taste it. It was a most satisfying slumber.

I quickly got dressed for school, combing my hair into a long, heavy braid and checked on my father. Same spot, same clothes, same shit. I was going to have to say something soon if he didn't snap out of this funk. He needed to walk around or else he was going to get blood clots. Maybe I could talk to Sue Clearwater, it seemed he always listened to her.

When I arrived at school, I noticed Alice Cullen getting out of the passenger side of a silver Volvo. She was wearing another billowy blouse and a long green, gauzy skirt, very full and bohemian; her black Docs peeking from beneath the material as it swirled around her graceful gait. She was the only person I had ever seen that managed to look agile in big black boots. I parked and waited for her driver to exit the vehicle, hopefully confirming my sibling suspicions. Unfortunately, the driver side door never opened and I couldn't wait any longer. I grabbed my tote and my corduroy jacket from the passenger seat and walked briskly to class, disappointed in myself for stalking the Volvo driver.

The morning passed uneventfully. Jessica, who was in a couple of my classes, giggled and talked excessively and then there was Mike. Ah, Mike, the loveable little goof. I seriously thought about spending lunch in that bathroom.

I decided to spend lunch in the library instead. I carefully ditched Jessica after Spanish class, telling her I needed to research something or other and dashed out of class barely before the bell rang. I found the library easily and stepped inside.

Ahhh, the papery smell engulfed me as I walked through the glass doors. I love the smell of books, rustic, leathery and slightly dusty. I'd found a comfort in the escape that prose offered, allowing me to experience everything, to be everyone, go everywhere. I'd read all genres, but I have a special place in my heart for nineteenth century British literature, especially love stories written by unrequited women.

I pulled my book from my bag and sat at one of the tables. I opened the cover and sighed as I inhaled the pages. I made my way through the beginning chapters quickly, having read the novel dozens of times. I stopped when I got to the introduction of the protagonist's love interest. Edward Ferrars. Edward Cullen. A tangle of legs and arms and green and honey came flooding into my memory. I snapped the book shut. This is bad. I found my music, slipping the buds into my ears and pressed play. _"It's loves illusions, I recall. I really don't know love at all."_

I sat in the library, laying my head on the cool table, and wallowing in Joni's lyrical torment, dozens of haunting songs about lost and found love. I felt drained; the familiar burning in my stomach was annoyingly present today. Finally the bell rang and I welcomed the disruption.

I found my Advanced Biology class in the Science building, next to the school day smoking and now puking, bathroom. I had missed the day before, my first day, so I suspected the teacher had already pegged me for some sort of unmotivated slacker. I would have to work extra hard to prove him or her wrong. Despite my social and emotional deficiencies, I had always been a good student. School was just easy for me. I greedily soaked up the knowledge, again losing myself in the information and details, the distraction from my reality a welcome comfort.

However, I quickly found that this class was going to be a bit of a challenge. Distraction, bronze and tousled, was centered in my line of sight as I walked through the door towards the back of the classroom. Edward Cullen, smoldering in his dark blue jeans and snug gray T-shirt, was seated alone at a lab table, next to the center aisle in the furthest row in the back. I stared in contempt at the back of his head, unwillingly noticing how tiny tufts of copper curled around the base of his neck. I swiftly walked to the front of the room, approached the teacher's desk and handed him my schedule.

"Ah, Ms. Swan. Nice of you to show up today." Yep, unmotivated slacker. "I'm Mr. Banner and this is Advanced Biology. Here's the syllabus, take any open seat."

Excellent, I could choose a seat in the front and totally forget that the most intriguing person I'd ever come into contact with wasn't seated merely feet behind me. Maybe he wouldn't be such a distraction after all.

As I turned around, the class full now, I realized I was fucked. Yep, one fucking empty seat. Yep, right next to him. Really, Karma? Haven't I been good, lately? Kind of?

Still not meeting Edward's eyes, I walked to the table and plopped down my bag, slightly pouting. I sat down, trying not to breathe because I knew the moment I smelled him, I'd be unable to concentrate for the rest of the day. But you know, breathing is kind of essential, so I took a small gasp of air.

And there it was, sweet and delicious, saturating my senses and causing images of black and white and greens to swirl around me. Shit, I am going to fail Biology.

"Bella.." Edward said so softly in his harmonious voice, I almost didn't hear him. His tone was hard to place, questioning, recollection, longing and perhaps a bit of disdain. The look on his face as he had fled the market yesterday flashed through my mind. I turned my head sharply to look at him, hoping I wouldn't see that same sneer. I was immediately rewarded. His shocking face was flushed, his green eyes burning into my brown.

Edward was staring now, just staring at me. I couldn't peel my eyes away, couldn't break this…thing between us. It was kind of freaking me out, but hell if I was going to be the one to turn away from it. He, apparently, could turn away and did as Mr. Banner called the class to attention. I turned my head slowly forward, mirroring his stance, inhaling deeply ever so often in a pathetic attempt to keep a small portion of him all to myself.

Mr. Banner lectured for the first twenty minutes of class on Eukaryotic Gene Expression and then gave us an assignment to complete from the book. I wasted no time, frantically clinging to the busywork so as not to be tempted to look at him again.

Edward suddenly nudged my elbow with the end of his pencil. "Hey! What did you get for number six?" Shit, here comes the part of my day where I make an utter fool of myself. I was extremely glad, though, that I'd already had this lesson in Phoenix and was a bit knowledgeable about the subject matter.

Still not looking at him, I muttered, "It's on page 278."

"Oh. Um…thanks," he said quietly.

We worked for a few more moments in silence. I tried to forget Edward was there, but the scent gloriously invading my space was a constant reminder of his presence. I decided one look wouldn't hurt; I was almost finished with the assignment anyway. I glanced to my left, trying to be inconspicuous and was met with green. Edward was staring again. What the hell is his problem?

"Do you need help or something?" I said in a quiet voice, a tad too snarky.

"Um, no. I'm finished." He whispered back, smirking at me now. Great, he thought this was funny. "You might want to check number six though. I think you have the wrong answer." He smiled a dazzling flash of white, one corner of his flawless lips pulling up slightly higher than the other, leaning towards me now, that undeniable magnetism forcing us to bow together.

Smug bastard.

"Were you cheating off my paper?" I murmured, my pride slightly tarnished, a familiar heat burning my ears.

"Well, I hope not. My uncle will kick my ass if I blow my 4.0." Edward's nose was inches from mine now, his cool breath flooding my face. He was teasing me, mocking my intelligence. And for some reason this really pissed me off. I mean, I _know_ I'm not pretty, or funny, or sociable, I don't even try to be. But I am smart. It's my thing, my classification, giving me a tiny place in this world where I belong, and he was taking that away from me. This, combined with the fact that his pretty, little, cocky face probably had never felt worthless or rejected just pissed me off.

"What, do you have like, multiple personality disorder or something? You're kind of acting like a schizo," I spat venomously, a little breathless from my brash.

Edward recoiled from my words, an excess of emotion flitting across his face: anger, fear, pain…acceptance, and then, nothing. He was a mask of cool collection, void of emotion, hard and empty.

And then Edward was gone. He closed his notebook and just left. This seemed to be becoming a habit for us; me acting like an idiot, and him tearing away from my presence like a bat out of hell. There is no "us" Bella, I chastised myself. I felt awful. Why did I say that? I was only slightly serious. He was acting bizarre, ignoring me one minute and insulting my intelligence the next. And what is it with the staring? It's enough to shake anyone's confidence and it really fucks with an over-analytical bulimic with an inferiority complex.

Still, he was obviously affected by what I had said. I had to get out of here. His scent still lingered in the air, taunting me, reminding me that I am a total fuck up.

Grabbing my tote, I walked to Mr. Banner's desk with my assignment. This was only going to further his negative opinion of me.

"Mr. Banner, I'm not feeling well. May I use the restroom?" I asked, a model of respect and decorum. "I'm finished with my assignment." I handed him the paper.

He grabbed my paper and inspected my answers. "Have you had this lesson before?" He eyed me suspiciously.

"Yes sir, at my old high school in Phoenix," I admitted.

"Very well," he sighed and waved a hand at me.

I rushed from the room. My face was flushed and hot tears were beginning to burn in my eyes. How do I always manage to make such a disaster out of everything? Edward was probably just trying to get a rise out of me, playing around, and I reacted like such a fricking girl. Ugh, I hated being so typical.

I headed to the bathroom behind the Science building. It was a pretty secluded location, perfect for smoking, puking…and now sulking and self-deprecation too. I had just turned the corner when I saw a couple leaning against the brick wall.

The guy was handsome, his chin-length twisted hair sticking out beneath his cap. His tall frame vested in a white pinstriped button-up shirt, and his sleeves rolled up around his biceps. He wore vintage jeans, a thick belt buckle and black boots. He had one hand on the wall, while the other palm softly cupped an adoring face, his thumb caressing her cheek, as if he had never held anything so precious.

I then recognized the shock of jet black. She was leaning against the wall, her fingers casually hooked in his belt loops. He was whispering something, staring into her face and they just looked so harmonized that I couldn't help but sigh at the exquisiteness of their intimacy.

He bent down, then, and placed a gentle kiss on each of her eyelids before tasting her lips delicately. It was probably the most beautiful kiss I'd ever witnessed. My chest just heaved, because I knew this would never be for me. I would never have that, that adoration and swelling of peace. _"Love is touching souls…"_

I must have sobbed out loud because at this moment, Alice turned, breaking her embrace to face me. A look of sheer panic clouded over her esteem and I saw her mouth form various profanities. Humiliated that I had been caught intruding on their very private exchange, I ran to the restroom and locked myself inside a stall. I sat on the toilet, tears falling freely now, hugging myself and rocking slightly.

A minute later I heard the bathroom door open and then the charming voice, "Bella?"

I didn't want to come out, but I figured I should apologize. I wiped my face and nose silently, trying to pretend the fact that I had been crying wasn't evident in the blotchy red and puffiness of my eyes and nose. Alice must have lit a cigarette; the earthy aroma was swirling inside the small room now. I stepped onto the toilet to shakily open the windows. Carefully climbing down, I unlocked the door and stepped out.

Alice was standing against the tile wall. I started to apologize but she stopped me.

"You look like shit." She handed me her cigarette. I took a long pull, letting it fill me up, before handing it back to her.

"I know." I leaned against the wall, next to her. "Sorry about that," I waved my hand to the door. "I'm just having a really bad day."

"That's two in row. Your track record's not looking so hot." Alice commented, exhaling. She looked over at me, the cigarette burning in her outstretched fingers, her arm crossed in front of her body. "Do you want to talk about it?"

God no, I do not want to talk about it. I took the cigarette from her hand, dragging in the flavor.

"It's nothing. I'm just homesick I guess." I really wasn't, but it seemed like a viable excuse for my behavior.

Alice smiled a small, knowing smile. "Yeah, me too."

I don't know why, but something about this confession made me want to explain, like maybe she could comfort me with her smokes and her sarcasm. I handed her back the cigarette. "Look, I'm just going through some stuff and I didn't mean to stare or watch or whatever. I'm not a freak or anything…that was just incredibly sweet."

Alice smiled again but it was hollow, not reaching her green eyes. She extinguished the cigarette after a final puff, turning to face me. "No one can know, Bella." She wasn't smiling anymore. "Please, promise me you won't tell anyone."

"Of course not, no worries. I don't really talk to anyone anyway." And when I do they end up running away.

She continued, "It's just, Jasper's a senior and I'm barely sixteen. My brother would fucking shit if he found out. He's not good at dealing with stuff. He'd probably try to kick Jasper's ass or get him arrested or something."

I almost snorted at the irony, but that would be misleading so I nodded in understanding instead. Her brother. He seemed to be the reason for a lot of anxiety lately.

"Thanks, Alice. I really appreciate this, the smokes and the talks." And I really did appreciate it. I'd never had a best friend. Angela had been an okay friend, but we weren't that close. She knew about the puking and the pills, but I had never told her anything about my dad and I really didn't know much about her either, come to think of it. I'd always just kind of known people and they just kind of knew me. But I hadn't ever really been _known_, as in silent conversations and not having to explain yourself or be ashamed of your most asinine behavior or thoughts and all the other shit that came with having a best friend. Alice had seen me cry, she'd seen me puke and we already had a secret. I don't know if you can really call someone your best friend after knowing them for two days, but right now Alice was the closet thing to a best friend I'd ever had.

"Anytime, Bella." Alice smiled again. She cocked her head to one side, pursing her lips. "Now, we need to fix your face."

Alice spent the next half hour pulling shit from her bag that no sane person would carry around with them all day. She dabbed some herbal ointment under my eyes and then rubbed some cream into my forehead, nose and chin, chatting quietly as she worked. She had a menacing amount of cosmetics tucked inside her bag, powders, creams and liquids in various shades and palettes. We talked about people at school, had a couple of smokes, and I was just itching to question her about her brother, but I didn't want to raise suspicions. I asked about Jasper instead.

"How long have you guys been seeing each other?" I asked through tight lips, my eyes watering. Alice was plucking my eyebrows now and that shit is painful.

"Um, only a couple of weeks. He's my cousin's girlfriend's twin brother." As if this explained anything. She must have seen the confusion on my face, because she continued to explain.

"We all hang out a lot. We were at Tyler Crowley's party a couple of weeks ago and this freshman, James, kept hitting on me, like all night. Wouldn't get a clue, you know? He had been drinking too much and started to get a little handsy. So Jasper punched him, like in the face. I'm not a fan of violence normally, but it was kind of heroic and old fashioned, like my honor was at stake or something. It was also totally hot." Alice was beaming now.

"Anyway, that morning we went to the diner for breakfast, like we always do after a party, and I snuck outside for a smoke. Jasper came out and…I …I don't know. He was always just kind of ideal, you know? Unattainable. But in that moment, I just knew. That sounds pathetic right? Okay, forget I just said that."

"Anyway," she continued, "Edward, my brother, is really overprotective. Oh, and he doesn't know I smoke either, so…" She made a face that clearly meant _keep it hush_. "Edward's just different. He's not a normal kind of guy. He's real intense and takes everything entirely too seriously. He's the most genuine person though and I love him, a lot. He just misunderstands things and overreacts."

Ah, the mother-load. I was listening so intently, I probably looked a little creepy. So, affirmative on the sibling status, I had definitely witnessed the overreaction and intensity first hand, and misunderstanding seemed to be the current running throughout our interactions. I pondered this in silence and Alice finished my brows.

"There. Perfect." I snorted at this. She handed me a small compact mirror. It wasn't so bad, the girly shit. My face did look better, no more red blotchiness, and not so pale. My eyes seemed to appear wider and my eyebrows were clean and arched.

Alice gasped suddenly and clutched my hand. "Bella! You have to let me read for you."

"What?" I asked.

"Tarot. I read Tarot cards. I'm pretty good; I may have a natural affinity for clairvoyance." She was totally serious. "You don't have to be psychic to read Tarot, but it helps in making predictions."

"Um, I don't know, Alice. I do have other classes to go to. I ditched gym yesterday, so I'm pretty sure I should go today," I responded. I really did need to go to class, as much as I despised gym.

"Yeah, I should go to class too. Tomorrow! Sit with us at lunch and I'll read for you. It's an unearthly experience, I know you'll love it." Alice's enthusiasm was infectious.

"Sure. That sounds great." I would be having lunch with her tomorrow, which meant I would, maybe, also be having lunch with _him_. A small part of me wanted to avoid this; an even greater part was jumping up and down and praising God and Buddha and whatever other deity had graced me this day.

…

**A/N**

Joni Songs referenced: (There's a ton this Chapter)

_You Turn Me On, I'm a Radio_

_I Could Drink a Case of You_

_The Last Time I Saw Richard_

_Tin Angel_

_Clouds_

Review bbs! It's good Karma!


	4. Was it hard to fold a hand you could win

Darlings,

All will be revealed.

Once again, I am so grateful for such awesome reviews. You guys are insightful and articulate and I love it!!!

So, I just love this chapter, more than the others (don't tell) because of darling **n7of9** who has been persuaded to weed through my convoluted sentences, riddled with out of place commas and semicolons. Yeah, she beta'd this shit, and she's freaking amazing!

Also, **amers_52**, who answers all my questions of the psychological variety! Thanks bb!

And of course: I don't own it.

**CH. 4 **** "**_**Was it hard to fold a hand you could win?"**_ (Joni Mitchell's words)

**EPOV**

I went for a run after dinner. I was still mulling over the incident with Bella that afternoon in the grocery store, and then after Alice's bizarre tarot card reading of devils and upside down emperors and fathering, I just had to clear my head. When we first moved here Carlisle suggested running as a way to relieve stress and anxiety; apparently, that helps to keep the bomb at bay. I'm glad he did because it has become my nightly ritual. I love running at night; surrounded by nothingness, porch lights streaking by in a blur, and the biting wind on my face causing my eyes to tear. With my pulse and breathing forming an even, rhythmic pace, the repetitiveness forces me into a meditative chant. Meditative or not, I don't know what I was fucking thinking tonight because guess where I ended up? Why would I come here? It's not like it was close, a good 5 miles or so, and I was going to have to run the whole way back too. But I just felt this pull to be near her, that fucking magnetism and cosmic bullshit thing again.

I stopped outside Bella Swan's house, noticing an old and faded truck in the driveway. She couldn't possibly be able to drive that thing! It probably didn't even have power steering, and it had to be a stick shift. There's no way her bony little arms would be able to handle that behemoth of a vehicle.

The small upstairs window was glowing and I wondered if she was in that room. What was she doing? What had she eaten for dinner? What color bedspread did she have? I started thinking of nonchalant ways I could casually explain my presence here. I could say I was visiting Charlie, but it was past eleven now. I would have to come earlier next time.

_Next time? Fuck Edward, I thought you were going to stay away!_

I thought about faking a cramp or something and then mentally punched myself in the dick for being such a girl. I guess I'd have to settle on sick pervert and scale the tree in her front yard. I ignored the absurdity of deciding that being a sick pervert was better than being a girl because I just had to see her, to somehow make sure she was okay.

I glanced around to see if anyone would be able to identify me in a line up, but her street was remarkably silent and still. I quickly scaled the large spruce in the front yard. The boughs softly touched the overhang of the roof and I lithely glided along one of the branches. I stepped softly from the limb to the roof, hoping like hell this was her room, and crouched, thankful I had worn my black sweats and hooded sweatshirt. While somewhat concealed, I probably looked like a pervy, peeping Tom stalker creep. This was so going to bite me in the ass.

I slowly crept to the window and peeked inside. It was a small room with little furniture, and I noticed the lamp on the nightstand was still lit. A small suitcase was thrown open on the floor in the corner next to a wooden rocking chair, clothing haphazardly tossed astray. Looking around I saw a pile of books, paperbacks as wells as notebooks, a backpack, a laptop and a large tote. My eyes scanned involuntarily to the small, full-sized bed.

And there she was. She lay slightly on her side, her legs tangled in cotton sheets, a purple comforter kicked to the floor. Her earphones were still in her ears and I yearned to go see what she was listening to. Her wet hair was swirling out around her, sticking to her face, neck and shoulders in loops and curves. It seemed an endless flow of darkness sharply contrasted with her translucent skin. Her berry lips were slightly parted I noticed, and her white teeth were peeking from beneath their fullness. The bend of her tiny wrist was curled to her face with the back of her hand resting against her cheek, her other arm raised over her head. My eyes traveled the length of her small body. She looked so fragile, so breakable, a tiny china doll. Utterly beautiful.

Her tantalizing neck flowed rather nicely into an expanse of remarkable shoulder blades and collarbones, her milky skin stretched, the indentations perfect for delicate kisses. She was wearing a blue tank top under an old flannel shirt and my eyes lingered on her dainty breasts, her chest heaving as her breath moved in a deep fluid cadence. I could practically count her ribs through the thin material as I ran my eyes just above the low waistband of her sweatpants, her prominent hipbones and the hollow of her lower stomach exposed. I hissed at the sight of that skin. I burned for her. I burned for her and felt disgusted with myself, disgusted for intruding on her like this and then envisioning her like _that_, imagining myself entering her room, crawling into her bed, my fingers folding around her exposed hips, pulling them into mine.

I am so fucking sick. I'm definitely going to hell for this.

Bella started to move, turned her head a bit and rolled onto her back completely. Her lips were moving now and it looked like she was saying something. _Shit, she's a sleep talker!_ I had to know what she was dreaming about. It was so wrong and intrusive but I couldn't stop myself from trying to open that window. I was now not only a sick, pervy, peeping Tom stalker creep; I was breaking and entering as well. As long as I'm going to hell…

I pushed the window open and it creaked slightly. I stopped, waiting for any indication that she'd heard, but she was still. I continued to push the window up all the way, stopping about 5 times, scared shitless she was going to wake up. I climbed down and sat on the window sill.

_This is so wrong, so wrong!_ My inner monologue was screaming at me but I didn't care, because Bella was talking again.

She was uttering small bits of rambling information: _green, drowning, can't breathe, honey, delicious_, and then I heard it, clearly and without a doubt…

"_Edward, stay."_

In that moment I became hers. Always. I couldn't even fathom leaving that room let alone forcing myself to stay away from her any longer. She had just uttered my fucking name in her sleep. She told me to stay and I would stay. I would do whatever the hell she wanted me to. I wanted her, wanted her more than I wanted to believe that I could be normal, wanted her more than I wished I wasn't a ticking bomb. Actually, in that moment, I didn't give a shit about the bomb. I just wanted to reach out and brush her hair from her face and taste her berry lips. I wanted to hold her hand and bring her flowers. I wanted to cook for her, see her enjoy something I created, to nourish and comfort her.

It seemed so ridiculously barbaric, but in that moment I wanted to claim her. Her, she, mine! _Oh my God, I am such an asshole._

Okay, I needed to get it together. I obviously could never let Bella find out about any of this, the peeping or the claiming, but I couldn't stay away from her either. I needed a plan.

I climbed back out of her window, closing it as silently as possible and jumped from the roof. I practically hit the ground running. I had a long 5 miles ahead of me and I had to figure out how I was going to get Bella Swan to fall in love with me.

…

The next day I drove Alice to school in my Volvo. Emmett always drove separately from us because he had wrestling practice after school. I pulled into the parking lot and parked quickly. My muscles were aching from last night's excursion and I was exhausted from the lack of sleep. I needed to find out Bella's schedule, maybe casually appear where she was. I was still high from hearing her voice my name, the euphoria masking the defense mechanisms I had put in place ages ago. I was proceeding with plan Make Bella Mine.

As Alice got out of the car I noticed that god-awful red truck parked behind me. I wasn't ready for this. I froze. "Go ahead Alice, I need a sec." She glanced at me strangely, then shut the door and left for class. I felt like I was going to be sick. I had only felt this way one other time in my entire life. In the fifth grade I had a massive crush on Tanya Denali. She was a picture of strawberry blond ten-year-old perfection, all pigtails and freckles. Every time I would see her on the playground at lunch, I would get sick to my stomach and go to the school nurse who would take my temperature and send me straight back out to recess. Eventually, my mother blamed it on lactose intolerance and ever since then there's a little note in my academic file that claims I'm allergic to milk.

I was watching Bella through my rear view mirror. Why wasn't she getting out of her car? We were both going to be late to class. Luckily I had U.S. History first thing and I could probably teach that class. Finally, seconds before the bell rang, like a breath of fresh air she left the truck and I was free to leave as well, keeping a good distance behind her while watching her long braid swish across the top of her lovely behind. It was quite an exquisite sight to behold and not a bad way to start the day either.

…

As the lunchroom was starting to fill the anticipation was literally making me sick. Should I talk to her? _Um, hi, remember me, we crashed in the grocery store, followed by bad jokes and then I acted like a dick? Oh and by the way, I'm kind of stalking you, and I want to touch you, and I might love you…_

No, I would most definitely not be talking to Bella today.

Emmett was sitting across from me, Rosalie situated on his lap as usual. He kicked my shin, "Dude, what the fuck is wrong with you? You look green."

"Lactose intolerance," I responded. Alice, who was sitting cross-legged on the table, looked at me sharply. She knows about the whole Tanya thing and in conjunction with her revealing reading last night, she knew something was up. I gave her an apologetic look, feeling like shit that I couldn't tell her about this. We normally didn't have any secrets. Alice always gets people to spill, she's just gifted that way.

Bella still hadn't entered the lunchroom and I started to panic at the thought that she might be hurt or sick or something. Maybe I should check the nurse's office to make sure she hadn't crashed into anyone else lately. This made me think of the grocery store, and her bed, and her berry lips, and her fragrance, and her warm, melting eyes…

I kept scanning the lunchroom for a glimpse of her. I checked Newton's table, very carefully avoiding the contemptuous yet greedy gazes from Jessica and Lauren.

Rosalie was leafing through some gossip magazine. "So, are we going to Newton's party on Friday?"

"Hell yeah, I seriously need to get fucked up," Emmett replied, nodding his head. Like he hadn't been "fucked up" barely three days ago.

Alice groaned, remembering. Drunk Emmett is not safe for anybody, the alcohol unleashing the need to prove that he could pin anyone in five seconds flat. Emmett has issues with personal space.

"What? I won't wrestle anyone this time, I promise." Emmett was smirking now, his fingers surely crossed.

"Are you going to go, Edward?" Alice was asking me, but she already knew the answer.

"No fucking way. I can't stand Newton." I replied.

"You don't actually have to hang out with him. It's a party, there will be tons of people there. Ah, c'mon, cuz, I'll keep you safe from Stanley and that hoover mouth of hers," Emmett teased.

"You're an asshole Emmett," I muttered.

"Yeah, I know." He practically inhaled a slice of pizza, hardly even chewing before chugging a whole pint of milk. I shuddered.

"C'mon babe, lets go make out in my car for a while." Emmett smacked the side of Rosalie's ass, urging her to get up off his lap. This was another reason Emmett drove his own car. I refused to let him do _that_ in my Volvo.

They walked out of the lunch room and I was left with my annoyingly perceptive sister and my own frantic desire to find Bella and make sure she was whole. Where was she? Didn't she need to eat?

Alice reached into her bag and pulled out her cards. I eyed her warily and tried to send her the no-fucking-way message. "What? I'm just seasoning them. You're supposed to keep the cards acclimated to your touch."

I snorted, "Okay," I replied, a little too condescendingly.

"You know, you don't have to be mean about it," she was pouting now, "and it's not nice to keep secrets." She glanced up, trying to work her charm on me.

But then her gaze caught something else across the room and she looked back down quickly at the cards in her hands. I looked behind me but didn't see anything unusual. I shrugged it off. Whatever Alice had noticed was gone now.

"Um, I forgot, I have to go to class early. I failed my Algebra test and Mr. Varner said I could retake it if I saw him during lunch. Are you okay?" Alice asked me warily. I frowned. Alice had never failed anything in her life. She must be stressed or something. I should stop giving her such a hard time.

"I'm fine, good actually. I'll probably just go sit in my car, listen to music or something." I would conveniently walk by the nurse's office on the way to said car, checking for any injured Bellas.

"Okay, see ya." She grabbed her bag, shoving the cards inside and left the room swiftly.

I walked straight to the nurse's office and stood outside the door, waiting for it to open so I could peek inside. I had to wait about ten minutes but finally the door opened and Mrs. Hammond, the school nurse, walked out.

"Oh! Goodness, Edward. Did you need something?" she asked, her fingers playing with the neckline of her blouse.

Shit. "Um, could I have a Band-Aid?" The things I would do for Bella Swan.

"Sure, of course." As she walked back into the room I grabbed the door and glanced inside. No Bella. Now I just felt like a moron. "Let me see, ah…here you go." She handed me the Band-Aid and I quickly spun around and left.

I felt like a lost puppy. I had no bearings, no distractions to force my mind away from Bella, so I just went to my car and spent the rest of the lunch hour engulfed in violent lyrics and angry drum beats. I just didn't know what else to do.

When the bell finally rang signaling the end of lunch I hurried to Advanced Bio, still none the wiser as to Bella's whereabouts. This class was a cake walk and no one ever sat by me, so I didn't have to engage in superfluous and meaningless conversation, and without the music to distract me, I had a full hour of Bella's lips to fuss over in my mind. I sat down at my table, opened my notebook and stared at the whiteboard, willing the images to assault me.

And then I smelled her, lavender and cream, sweet and intoxicating. Bella had come in the back door and brushed by me as she walked up the center aisle. I wanted to snag her and bring her closer, but I thought that might be too presumptuous at this early stage, so I opted to shamelessly stare instead. My head immediately fogged up as I watched her shuffle up to Mr. Banner, slightly catching the toe of one of her sneakers on the leg of a lab table towards the front of the classroom. I smiled, remembering the grocery store. Maybe I could strategically place myself in her trajectory and catch an opportunity to touch her again.

I watched as Bella engaged Mr. Banner in conversation. She shifted uncomfortably, moving her bag from one shoulder to the other, her long braid swaying, but then as she turned her face fell. Realization dawned on me as she moved towards my table. She recognized me and she was not happy about it. She looked upset, her eyes on the floor, because she had to sit next to me. The look on her face almost shook my resolve and nearly obliterated my plan, but then I remembered the fact that she had whispered my name in her sleep. Maybe I should plead my case to her subconscious. Frankly, I didn't care about any of it anymore. I was being selfish now and I would not fail.

Bella still wouldn't look at me. She set her bag on the table and finally sat down next to me. She was so close now, the aroma unforgivable. I was dying to press my nose into the base of her jaw just below her ear and trail kisses down her neck to her shoulder blade. Her hair was pulled back exposing her porcelain skin, and it was torture. I couldn't stop myself from staring at her neck, wisps of dark hair decorating her nape. I was going to explode if I didn't get this out.

"Bella…" I began.

I was going to say more, but in that instant she turned to face me. _Fuck, she's beautiful!_ I couldn't read her, so many emotions thick behind her lashes, that I forgot what I was going to say.

At that moment Mr. Banner called the class to attention and I used the excuse to break from her gaze.

I half-assed listened to the lecture, preferring to watch Bella take notes instead, absorbing her mannerisms. She recorded minimally, opting to form little stars and circles in the margins of her notebook instead. Her pen traced the outlines of her letters, darkening them until they were barely legible. She chewed the inside of her lip and I was envious, longing to taste that lip myself. I noticed her fidgeting and pulling her ear when she lost interest in the lecture. I wanted to know what she was thinking about during these phases, when her pen would stop and her eyes would glaze over, staring past this room. I couldn't keep my eyes off of her, fascinated by every minute movement she made.

When Mr. Banner assigned the book work, she immediately began scribbling the responses, skimming the chapter for answers that she didn't know from memory. I had to say something; I couldn't take the silence any longer.

"Hey! What did you get for number six?" I nudged Bella's elbow with my pencil eraser. I didn't know if I could handle touching her yet without it turning into something creepy, this just seemed safer.

"It's on page 278," she responded without so much as a glance at me.

"Oh. Um…thanks." Shit, she's blowing me off. _Take a fucking hint Edward, she's not interested asshole!_

Bella went back to work. I quickly jotted down the answers, taking maybe five minutes to finish the assignment. What the fuck was I going to do for the next thirty-five minutes? It was unbearable being this close to her but not being able to speak, with nothing to distract me. So I watched her again. She worked conscientiously, rereading her responses and changing her wording. I glanced at her paper, checking her answers. They were mostly right, except for number six. I smiled at the irony.

Suddenly Bella was looking at me, irritation pouring from her now. She was so fucking adorable when she was angry, I almost missed what she said.

"Do you need some help or something?" she snapped quietly, leaning towards me.

I smirked. Yep, adorable.

"Um, no I'm finished." I smiled fully at her now, because I knew that what I was going to say next was going to piss her off, but I couldn't stop myself. I loved the interaction, even in the negative connotation, because it was something. I leaned in further towards her now, "You might want to check number six, though. I think you have the wrong answer."

She blushed, crimson creeping up her neck and ears, blending into her hair, and it took my breath away. "Were you cheating off my paper?" She asked, exasperated.

I snorted, as if I needed to cheat. "Well, I hope not. My uncle will kick my ass if I blow my 4.0." I was so close to her face I could smell the peppermint on her breath. It was wrong, I know, to insult her intelligence. She must be incredibly bright, obvious in the ease at which she had completed the assignment and the care she took to perfect her answers. But that fifth grader inside of me had taken over, cooties and teasing, insults masking adoration, trying desperately to illicit some kind of response from her.

Apparently, I had gone too far. She turned to face me, "What, do you have like, multiple personality disorder or something? You're kind of acting like a schizo," poison spewing from her lips.

Maybe. Probably. Most likely, yes.

_What am I doing?_Her accusation brought me back to reality, dissipating that initial euphoria and ever taunting hope. Of course I'm acting like a schizo! I should have known it all along, known that I couldn't do this, couldn't hold someone close to me. I had stupidly let the hope swell, invading my cognition and filling my head with delusions.

And then, I wanted it to happen. I wanted the bomb to just fucking explode, to shatter my awareness into a billion pieces, and replace it with paranoia, hallucinations, apathy and all the other fucked up symptoms of psychosis that were no doubt waiting for me. It had shattered my father, causing him to destroy everything around him, like a fucking atomic bomb. The same bomb which was now residing within me, and I was yearning for it to break free.

I had to leave, get away from Bella before I could destroy her. My body acted on its own volition now. I felt my face smooth over into a cool mask. I saw my hands reaching for my notebook. I watched my legs carry me out of the classroom. I knew my entire being would protect Bella Swan, which is why it did not look at her as it walked out of that room and out of her life.

I let it all come back to me, because I wanted to drown myself in this now. Get it over with and let it happen. I was surrendering, raising my white flag. Within twenty-four hours my hope was shattered, the delusion I let myself believe now gone.

I thought of Chicago, of my father locking me in my room, holes in the drywall he never repaired. I thought of my mother cradling him, smoothing his hair and weeping with him after he eventually felt the tide of remorse.

I thought of Alice, locking herself in the bathroom and spending the night in the tub or sneaking into my room and squishing into my small bed.

I thought of our last day there, a knife wound in my mother's chest, a small trail of blood on her lips. I thought a stab wound would have produced more blood, but apparently there was internal bleeding in her lungs and she asphyxiated. I thought of my father's self inflicted gunshot wound, a pinhole in one temple, the exit wound gaping, his head slumped over, blood spilling onto his latest deposition.

My father had been fooling people with his brilliance and his beauty since he was a teenager. A genius of a human being, he just seemed eccentric, his exchanges riddled with idiosyncrasies. His high intelligence, photographic memory, and highly obsessive behavior earned him a degree in law. His beauty and vulnerability earned him a wife, my mother. As a lawyer in Chicago, he was successful and revered; his quirkiness earned him a sense of likability and awe with the jury. His handsome features clouded his true nature, attracting women who wanted to fuck him and men who wanted to channel him. People just didn't want to believe that someone so brilliant, so beautiful, could be so flawed and so entirely fucked up.

My mother didn't want to believe it, even though she was there when the doctors had made the diagnosis. And now she was dead.

Within a week we were living with Carlisle and Esme. Carlisle explained to us that my father, his brother, had been diagnosed with schizophrenia when he was seventeen. He was medicated and received cognitive behavior therapy, which had been effective in masking some of the symptoms. Carlisle had left Chicago when my father started refusing treatment. My father was convinced that he was better; he had a phenomenal job and a beautiful, loving wife. He thought he was cured. He was okay most of time. However, his frequent recreational marijuana use triggered the symptoms of the psychosis, heightening the paranoia.

How could I not know this about my own father? It could have been Alice with that wound in her chest. Of course, I wanted to know more about the disease that had quite effectively destroyed my life, killed my mother and left Alice and me possibly irreparably damaged for the rest of our lives, so I researched it.

Most of the shit I read said the same thing that Carlisle had told us, it's a neurological disorder; symptoms include hallucinations, paranoia, flat affect, disorganized thoughts, and delusions. The symptoms could be amplified by marijuana, his drug of choice, but mostly drug use was an effect of the disease. And then I read the genetic implications. Fucking genetics. Some studies showed that the genetic implications were varied, but twin studies suggested a high level of hereditability. I was sure I would be just like him. And my mother knew, _"You have his eyes, you know. You're just like your father."_ A fucking genetic ticking time bomb.

I have been waiting for it to happen ever since. When Alice and I first moved here, I went through what Carlisle referred to as 'a destructive phase'. I had just found out about my father's mental illness and had gone a little crazy myself, trying to manifest the disease, trying to bring forward the inevitable. I would do crazy things trying to elicit a neurological response, pushing myself to extremes. Cliff diving, mountain biking, storm surfing, rock climbing, stuff that seemed completely normal but that I was completely reckless with. Then, of course, there were the more traditional methods of self-destruction: drugs and alcohol, fighting, fasting and sleep deprivation. Carlisle said it was grief and I was given anti-depressants and cooking classes, but I really just wanted to be committed so I couldn't hurt anyone like my father had. If he could kill my mother, no one would be safe from me, because I didn't love anything as much as he loved her.

And now I might.

And I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I ever hurt Bella.

And I was desperate to feel that explosion now. I was begging for the bomb to explode, just fucking begging for it as I ran, sobbing, to find that release. I knew what I had to do, I knew a way to make this all go away.

I went to see the Italians.

It was a journey I had taken often, back during the days of my 'destructive phase'. They were dicks, total fucking assholes, the kind of guys that like to prove their self worth by destroying someone else's. They hung out behind the gym, smoking pot and drinking beer and just kicking the shit out of kids that didn't belong there. Nobody fucked with them though, and you definitely didn't venture into their area of the school without expecting a fight. Back when I was fighting, I found release in the battle, the flailing of fists connecting with tissue, swelling, splitting, bleeding. I could even take one or two of them. I'm kind of skinny, but freakishly strong, years of running contributing to my increased stamina. They expected little of me and because of this they were ill prepared. It would be different today, though. I wasn't going to fight back this time.

I saw them standing against the brick wall of the gym. Two big, greasy motherfuckers. One, Demitri I think his name is, was smoking a joint, running his hand through his dark hair. The bigger one, Felix, was grabbing his dick and air humping the wall, probably degrading some girl he claimed to have fucked in this disturbing montage, an interpretive dance, if you will. Like I said, total fucking assholes.

They saw me approaching and quickly readied their positions, Demitri snuffing out the joint and pocketing the roach. Cheap ass bastard.

"What the fuck, Cullen. We haven't seen your pretty face around here lately." Demitri approached me first.

I didn't say anything. My face was tear-stained and sweaty from running, my hair falling in my eyes. I just wanted to get it over with.

Felix decided it was his turn to goad. "Are you crying, bitch?" He walked right up to my face. "Holy fuck, you little bitch." He shoved me hard. "I don't know if I can hit a girl."

"What's the matter, Cullen? Missing your mommy?" Demitri was closing in, stalking me like a predator, preying on the weak. It wouldn't be long now.

"Just fucking do it asshole." I decided they were talking too much. I was going to lose my nerve.

They just stood there, looking at each other. Why wouldn't one of them hit me already?

I was going to have to take matters into my own hands. I put on my best antagonistic sneer. "Didn't you hear me, pussy. Fucking do it. Hit me, you goddamn fucking bitch."

Felix stood gaping, "What did you fucking say?"

"I said I fucked your mother." That did it.

A fist collided with my jaw, my lip splitting. I fell to my right, spinning and scraping my face against the brick wall. I coughed, spitting blood, the coppery fluid running down my chin. I rested my forehead against the bricks, pushing away with my hands.

I turned around to face them. I guess Felix was the one that had punched me, he was anticipating my retaliation. I just stood there, a smirk playing on my lips.

"Again." I spat blood, aiming for Felix's shoes.

"You fucking bitch." Felix hit me in the face again, this time right below the eye, a vicious right hook sending me to the ground.

"Fuck!" I gasped. That one hurt. I was going to have a black eye. Now on my hands and knees, I touched my face where his fist had landed and noticed the red smeared on my fingertips. Why wasn't it happening? Why hadn't I snapped? I still just felt hopeless and pathetic and now my face hurt too.

I stood up slowly, staggering and wiping the blood from the wound under my eye, the flesh stinging where I had touched it. There was quite a bit of blood now, my eye already swelling, impeding my vision. But it wasn't enough.

"What's wrong boys, gone soft on me?" I just wanted it to be over and I needed more. "Is that all you got, you limp dick bastards?"

They both charged at me now. Demitri shoved me into the brick wall, knocking the wind out of me. As I struggled to catch my breath, Felix's fist collided with my face again and again. My nose was crushed, my head whipping backward and smacking into the wall. My cheekbone was next, the sickening sound of skin splitting further, widening the already gaping wound. My jaw now, sending a stream of blood down my throat. Even my fucking ear, they were all throbbing and pulsating. I was beginning to get woozy, losing my balance and using the wall for support. It still hadn't fucking happened yet. No bomb. No explosions.

Felix, sensing I was close to unconsciousness, sent one last punch to my gut, sending me keeling to the ground, gasping and spitting blood, the taste oddly comforting. It would be over soon. Demitri sent a carefully aimed kick to my ribs, and I collapsed on the gravel, groaning and bleeding all over the fucking place. Fuck there was a lot of blood coming from my face.

Demitri started to leave, jogging away, looking around to see if anyone had seen the altercation. Felix spat down at me, "You are one fucked up motherfucker, Cullen." He wiped his mouth and followed his friend, laughing.

I just lay there on the ground, panting and trying to breathe, pain shooting through my side with each inhale. I had gone too far, yet apparently not far enough. My face probably looked like ground beef. I could only see out of one eye now, the other one completely swollen shut. I rolled over onto my back, my breath slowing, trying to remain conscious. I had to get to the car; Carlisle would kill me if I got suspended again. I tried to assess my injuries. The wound under my eye would probably need stitches. My nose was bleeding, but didn't feel broken. I was pretty sure I had a couple of broken ribs and my lip was split pretty bad, but I didn't think that would need stitches. I struggled to sit up, one side of my body feeling pulverized, and I painfully took off my jacket and shirt. They were covered in splattered blood. I bunched the shirt up and pressed it to my cheek and nose, trying to stop the bleeding.

I gingerly put my jacket back on, over my undershirt, and walked to the Volvo. There was no way I was going to be able to drive. I sat in the passenger seat, waiting for school to end so I could go home and Carlisle could stitch up my face. Finally, about five minutes after the bell rang, I saw Alice walking up to the car, confusion on her face as she noticed me sitting in the passenger seat.

She opened the driver side door and climbed in. "Edward, what the hell is going on?"

Then she looked over at me. "Fuck! We have to get you to Carlisle." She turned the key, which I had placed in the ignition and without waiting for my response, peeled out of the parking lot and sped towards home.

**A/N**

I'd just like to clarify that my knowledge of Schizophrenia is extremely limited. I have some first hand experience with the disease and the rest is research, so if I misinterpret, I apologize.

Also, I love Italians. I am Italian, as you may have guessed by the running theme in Edward's cooking choices. Well, that and it's really the only kind of food I know how to make. They are Italians because it coincides with canon. I'm all about the Italian pride bb's!!

I'm sorry, dear Edward, but you knew it was coming. You know how many times I've seen Fight Club. Now, lay down while I clean you up...

Also, reviews help Edward heal faster!!


	5. An Ancient Injury That Has Not Healed

Darlings,

I can't tell you how my heart sings every time I hear that little ping that notifies me of new mail... Your reviews are amazing and I appreciate you all! Thank you, thank you!

Ah, **n7of9**, my darling BETA BAMF. Thank you for random thoughts and for answering my incessant questions, and I'm sorry I'm annoying as shit. And thank you for reading this chapter so many times and indulging my insecurities...

And of course, I don't own it.

**CH. 5**_**–"But for an ancient injury that has not healed."**___**(Joni's words**_**)**_

**EPOV**

Fuck my face was fucking killing me, just fucking pulsating. Once Alice drove me home, she helped me into the house. My nose had stopped bleeding but there was still blood everywhere, all dried up on my face, matted in my hair, splattered onto my undershirt. I just wanted to get upstairs and into my bathroom before Esme saw me. She would freak if she saw me like this.

We slowly made our way up the stairs, Alice struggling to hold me up, but stopped at the second floor bathroom because I didn't think I was going to make it up the second staircase to my bedroom. Alice left to get some washcloths and the first aid kit that Carlisle kept in his office.

I turned on the tap, staring at myself in the mirror. Fuck, I looked like shit. My left eye was completely swollen shut, a deep, fleshy gash about an inch long on my cheekbone. The right side of my face was red and scraped, a large abrasion running from my ear right across my cheek from where I had hit the brick wall. My bottom lip was split on the left side, swollen and raw. And then there was the blood.

Alice came back and put one of the cloths under the stream. She placed the cloth to the cut on my eye first.

"Esme went shopping, she's not here. We need to tape this up until Carlisle gets home, it's going to need stitches." She dabbed it carefully with the cloth. Once she dried the skin, she cut a couple of pieces of medical tape and placed the bandage over the cut, holding the wound together.

She continued to wipe the blood from my face, careful not to apply pressure to the scattered cuts and scrapes. I looked at my palms, my skin curling around the shallow scarlet lines from when I had fallen in the gravel.

"Edward, what the hell?" Now the interrogations would begin.

"Alice," I groaned, "not right now, okay?" I just didn't have the strength to do this now. It was bad enough I was going to have to explain it to Carlisle when he got home. "Later…I promise." I looked at her with pleading eyes. I just wanted to lie down in my bed and think about what Bella was doing right now.

"Okay, but only because you look so awful." Alice smiled a small smile, but I could tell she was worried, her eyes flat and devoid of humor. "You need to take a shower," she said as she left the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

I turned on the shower and struggled to remove my clothing, wincing as I pulled the filthy shirt over my head. I was going to have to burn this shit. I stepped into the warm water, careful to keep my bandage dry, and washed my hair, scrubbing the dried and caked blood, the water pooling and swirling red around the drain. I let the hot water soothe my muscles, my side aching from Demitri's kick. Fucking asshole, that blow was highly unnecessary.

I stood in the shower until the water ran cool and my teeth were knocking together. Wrapping a large towel around my waist, I finally made my way up the second staircase to the third floor and into my room, my sanctuary. Once in some clean clothes, I laid down on my bed to wait for Carlisle. I drifted in and out of consciousness, welcoming the visions of berry pink and chocolate brown peppering my awareness.

…

Carlisle got home around seven and came to my room immediately. I guess he knew something was up when there wasn't any dinner waiting for him on the table. Esme had also come up as soon as Alice told her but I had pretended to be asleep. I needed some time to prepare for what I was going to tell Carlisle.

I did not want the drugs again. I hated that feeling, the semi-awareness, living a half-life, not really feeling in the present, not really feeling anything at all. I knew that if Carlisle suspected I had been purposefully seeking out fights he would slap me with a prescription, so my first inclination was to lie.

But then I spent the next hour thinking of that girl in her room whispering _my_ name as she dreamt. I thought about all the shit I had felt in the last two days, things I didn't even think were possible for me to experience. Two days. Two fucking days and everything had been blown straight to hell.

If I was going to do this, I mean, really try to do this _thing_ with Bella, I would need help. Because I had no idea what I was doing here, like, no fucking idea how to be normal. I had spent the majority of my adolescence isolating myself and trying to be vacant, existing and waiting for that excess infusion of dopamine, wondering when and where it would happen, who I would hurt and whether it would hurt me. And now for the first time I wanted to try to prevent it, now that I had something else to exist for. I'd do whatever Carlisle wanted me to.

Carlisle knocked softly on my open door, "waking" me from my false sleep. He had his medical bag with him and concern littered his sharp features. Like my father, heredity had gifted Carlisle with a quick mind and strong facial features, Cullen features. It was strange really how we all looked alike, yet different. Carlisle, Emmett, my father and I all dignified a strong jaw line and high cheekbones, very angular and geometric. The similarities ended there though, each of us stemming from this one prototype like paper dolls. Emmett was a fusion of angular and curved, Esme shining through in his dark curls and dimples, a far cry from Carlisle's blond and blue, and me, a replica of my father's bronze and green without a trace of my mother's blue and brown. Yet we all looked like family, the genetic implications undeniable.

I sat up as Carlisle silently walked to my bedside and began unloading various items onto the nightstand: disinfectant, anesthetic, suture kit, forceps. We'd done this before.

He looked at me finally, ready to speak. "Edward, what happened?" He carefully pulled the makeshift bandage that Alice had placed there hours ago. I hissed as the cool air hit the wound, stinging slightly as the tape pulled the skin and caused the wound to gape again.

I could sense his reluctance, almost as if he really didn't want to know the truth. I knew he didn't want a repeat of my first year here. He had been so patient with me, calling it a mourning period, thinking I just needed to get it out of my system. Alice had handled it so much better than I had. All she did was cut her fucking hair. I could have killed myself with the stupid shit I was doing.

I exhaled. I was going to tell him but I had some things to take care of first.

"I ventured down the wrong hallway at school, that's all." It wasn't a lie, really.

"No bullshit Edward." Carlisle said in a low voice, calmly saturating a cotton ball with antiseptic and wiping the area around the wound on my cheek.

I knew he wouldn't listen to bullshit, especially mine. I had exhausted my quota for bullshit a long time ago.

I sighed, feigning defeat. "No Esme, no Alice, no Emmett." I stated my terms. I did not want the whole fucking family finding out about this.

Carlisle filled a syringe with anesthetic. "I don't keep secrets from my wife Edward." He brought the needle to my cheek, tilting my head to the side, a familiar pinching and pressure on my face. I knew he wouldn't concede with Esme but I had to have an initial offer, that way he could counter and I could get what I really wanted out of this compromise.

I had to be cool though, make it seem like this wasn't my original intention. I was silent while the anesthetic numbed the left side of my face.

"Alright, no Alice or Emmett, then," I insisted.

"I'll try my best," he said as he cracked open the suture kit and began to stitch up my face.

I took a deep breath. "Well, there's this girl..."

"You did this to impress a girl?" Carlisle was obviously not expecting this, his hand slightly faltering mid-stitch.

"No, not really. Maybe. I don't know. It's just, I kind of like her. I don't even really know her, but every time I see her it's like… memorable. Do you know what I mean?" I was so terrible at this and trying to explain about Bella made me feel like an idiot.

"I think I can relate." He smiled at me and I could see hope fucking brimming in those blue circles of his.

Carlisle finished, his swift fingers knotting the sutures and covering them with a small bandage. He began to prod the area around my nose. "Any pain here, difficulty breathing through your nose?"

I shook my head no, "Anyway, I'm just…afraid. That I'll hurt her. Like him." I was struggling to find the words. I looked down at my hands, picking at the skin around the superficial scrapes on my palms.

Carlisle sat down on the edge of my bed. "Edward, you know there's no way to know if you are going to develop this disease, or any other disease for the matter. We know the risks, and I'm not going to say it's not going to happen, because I don't know. But we're well informed. We know what to look for." We'd had this talk before too so his canned response did nothing to calm my fears.

He could see the doubt in my face, I'm sure. He continued, "You are not your father. You're forgetting that I was there when the disease invaded and conquered him."

He was right. I had forgotten that. I tilted my head slightly at the reminder. We had never discussed my father's youth, the beginning of his downfall. Carlisle had never brought it up, always sticking to the present, factual and clinical. I wasn't quite sure if I wanted this link in the chain yet, the details that would connect my father with me.

"I think I might have a broken rib." I could barely breathe now, the pain in my side intense with every inhale.

Carlisle understood my diversion. "You need an x-ray. We have to go to the hospital." He stood up, gathering his tools and placing them in his bag. "What am I going to tell people when they ask what happened?"

I exhaled with difficulty. "Tell them I was wrestling a grizzly," I smirked.

Carlisle wasn't laughing. "I'm serious, Edward. These are my colleagues and they will ask questions. I'm going to need to give them an answer."

I frowned. "Tell them… it's because of a girl." I finally shrugged. It seemed less complicated this way and it _was_ kind of true.

Carlisle knew I wasn't giving him the full truth. "Edward, I don't know exactly what's going on here. I'm glad to hear you're interested in pursuing a relationship with someone other than your family. It's healthy for kids like you to have social relationships. Isolation isn't beneficial, for you or Alice."

Yeah, kids like me, kids that might go fucking nuts one day.

"I need help, Carlisle. I don't know how to be okay or normal. I keep making a mess out of things and…I just need help." I sounded like such a little bitch, so ridiculously pathetic. But Carlisle would never make me feel that way. He told me what I needed to hear but was too chicken shit to ask.

"Schizophrenia is an insidious disease, Edward. It manifests itself in many ways, some of them obvious, some very subtle. Usually the patient has no clue that anything is wrong, the delusions and hallucinations cloud coherent thought and reason. I didn't know anything about the disease when your father was diagnosed and I'll admit he scared the shit out of me.

But I can't regret leaving Chicago, because I found my life in Seattle. We ALL have demons, Edward. My brother is mine. What happened to him, to your mother, will forever haunt me. I left him alone and unprotected because I was ill equipped and unknowledgeable. I didn't know! But I do now. As your uncle, as your father figure now, I am here to protect you, even if it's from yourself."

The sincerity and conviction that poured from his voice was so overwhelming, I couldn't respond at first. I barely knew that I had an uncle before two years ago. I knew he was out there, somewhere, living his own life and not in Chicago living in hell. I couldn't really blame Carlisle, because if I would have had an out, I would have taken it. That wasn't an option for me though. There's no way I would have left Alice to deal with all that shit on her own. It was my job to protect her. It still is. We had always stuck together during my father's episodes, and it would be a cold day in hell before I would just fucking abandon her like that.

I still hadn't spoken and I didn't want Carlisle to misinterpret the silence, but I couldn't think of an appropriate response. So I just said the first thing that I could think of.

"Thanks." It was shit, I know. I gingerly rose from the bed, the pain shocking me into a quick stillness.

Carlisle motioned for me to leave and he followed me out of the room. My lame ass attempt at thanks was enough, for now.

…

There was no way in hell that I was going to school that week. I was on some pretty heavy narcotics for the pain and my face was the size of a watermelon. No broken bones, just bruises, but it was going to be at least six weeks before I could run again. I had been watching Food Network for the past 27 hours and had already purchased a Titan Peeler and a Slap Chop, and I was seriously considering getting a Sham Wow. I was anxious to try out a new recipe for Baked Chicken and Pastina but Esme wouldn't let me cook. She was babying me, and I let her because I knew she loved it and I kinda did too.

I was just so fucking bored. I watched all the Star Wars episodes, even the new digitally enhanced bullshit. I read some depressing ass shit of a book about the apocalypse and fucking owned Emmett in Call of Duty. All my independent study homework that Carlisle had gotten from my teachers on Wednesday was finished and I had organized my music collection, even the LP's, first chronologically and then by preference within that year. I was out of distractions and it was killing me that I couldn't see Bella. I really just wanted to climb into her bedroom and hear her say my name again.

Alice was pissed off I wouldn't tell her the truth about what happened. She had approached me repeatedly, taking advantage of my house arrest, demanding information. Today, Friday, she was being exceptionally pushy.

She was sitting on the couch in my bedroom, sheets of loose leaf paper scattered around her. She had a large Astrology book spread out before her and she kept flipping the pages furiously, stopping to scribble something when she found what she had been looking for.

"Are you going to school on Monday?" She asked, her pencil flying across her page.

"Probably, I don't think I could stay in this house another day, fucking cabin fever, you know?" I answered, stretching my side carefully.

"Still not going to tell me what happened, huh?" The repetitive swish of Alice's pages reminded me of how Bella's braid had swished across her tight little ass when she walked.

I _had_ to see her. Like now!

And I needed Alice to leave, because the thought of Bella's ass had me sporting a semi and I suddenly had a strong desire to take up permanent residence in the masturbation nation. I had been visiting the nation often the last couple of days.

"Fuck, Alice. I told you, I messed with some guys I shouldn't have, alright? Said some shit I shouldn't have said. Let it go." I was being an ass, but I was hoping she'd get offended and leave.

"Whatever Edward. You're such a liar." Alice snapped her book shut and I thought for a moment she was going leave. I even started up my laptop, fully planning on visiting a highly restricted, of the eighteen and older variety, and highly bookmarked site as soon as she left.

Instead of leaving, Alice just sat there staring at me, waiting. I stared back, a showdown of sorts, battle of the wills.

She caved first, "Come on, I know this is about a girl. The tarot readings, the fighting, the excessive whacking off, plus you watched Pride and Prejudice on T.V. yesterday, even with the commercials. You're so transparent Edward."

Fuck. _Fuck, fuck, fuck._ Perceptiveness at its worst. Alice was not going to let this go. I guess I could tell her enough to appease her, get her off my case. I didn't have to use names and she would probably spend the next two days trying to figure it out, buying me some time.

"Okay. So maybe it is about a girl," I shrugged. "So what?"

Alice just buzzed. She was grinning like an idiot.

"What?" I eyed her suspiciously.

"Nothing." She was still smiling all over the place. I glared at her cheerful demeanor.

"_What?_" This was starting to piss me off.

"Nothing!" Alice laughed and paused a moment, calculating her next move. "Can I meet her?"

"Get out of my room." This was miserable. I couldn't even get up to kick her out.

She was laughing victoriously now. "I fucking knew it! Is it Jessica? Please, say it's not Jessica."

"It's not Jessica," I said confidently.

"Is she going to be at Newton's party tonight?" Alice was gathering her book and papers, forming a sloppy bundle.

This was a good question. I had no idea if Bella would be at Newton's party tonight. I'm sure she would have heard about it, she had classes with Mike and by the way he was looking at her on Monday, I wouldn't be surprised if he was already planning their wedding.

"Maybe. I don't know." I replied, honestly.

"Well, I'll be watching for _her_ then." Alice was definitely going to be preoccupied with trying to figure out who my "her" was.

But now I was preoccupied with a dilemma. What if Bella _was_ going to Newton's party? Sober, the girl had no control of her limbs. I'd hate to see what kind of trouble she could get into all inebriated. And I would get to see her, maybe make some advances in plan Make Bella Mine. Shit, my side still hurt like hell and now I was going to have to go to this party. I fucking hate parties.

"Maybe I'll tag along so I can throw you off her scent," I teased Alice. I knew she couldn't wait to start putting this shit together.

"But you hate parties." Alice looked slightly disappointed, probably worried I would attempt to thwart any advances in her quest.

"I do. But I hate the thought of sitting in this room another night more." This was definitely plausible and if Bella wasn't at the party, I would just leave. "Now, get out of my room. I have shit to do." I motioned for her to leave.

"Yeah yeah, I know all about the shit you have to do." Alice grabbed her book and mess of paperwork and laughed her giddy ass out of my room. "Use a sock, will you? You don't want to ruin your laptop."

Fucking hilarious.

Now, how was I supposed to whack off after that? I sighed and lay down on my bed, closing my eyes. Why was Alice so happy about this? Why would it matter to her that it was about a girl?

Because it was about a girl. _All_ about her. Her white teeth biting into her plump lip, her dark hair trailing around her porcelain neck, her velvet eyes seeing right through me. The thought of possibly seeing her tonight sent a shock of anticipatory pleasure throughout my entire being.

I grabbed my laptop and quickly clicked the link to the site. I searched, clicking through the images, looking for pale, small and brunette. My hand slipped into my sweatpants, clutching and tugging. Eyeing the screen, I squinted at a faceless brunette, a vision in white with stethoscopes and thermometers. It didn't take long and soon I was panting and grasping and frantically coming into my boxers. _A real Florence fucking Nightingale._

Fuck, I hate it when Emmett's right.

…

**BPOV**

"Where the hell is my blue shirt?" I muttered to myself, emptying the entirety of my suitcase onto the wood floor of my small room. I was seriously panicking about Wednesday's lunch plan, primarily because I was going to have to eat something. Alice was way too perceptive to let that go, she would notice for sure. And I would not be able to puke because I had Biology after lunch with Edward and he would notice my absence. I was going to have to wait until after Biology, at least, before I could have any relief.

Secondly, I would, potentially, be spending an entire lunch period with Edward. I wondered if I could go a whole hour without offending him this time. I wanted to apologize for my behavior in biology yesterday. There was just something about this guy that turned me into a bumbling idiot. I couldn't get my bearings around him, my mouth just rambled on about nothing and everything at the same time.

Thirdly, I had nothing to wear. I couldn't find half the clothes I thought I had brought with me, apparently a bit too generous during the eradication of my summer wardrobe. I would have to ask Alice if there were any cheap clothing stores around here.

I gave up on the blue shirt and just grabbed my sweats and tank and headed into the bathroom. For someone like me, the bathroom takes on a whole new connotation. It's a very ritualistic kind of place, like a sacrificial temple or something. Every day, people take part in the ritual of brushing their teeth, cleansing their bodies, applying various creams, liquids, sprays, and all kinds of chemical concoctions for the betterment of their external appearance. But for someone like me, an ordinary bathroom was a conflicting place, offering relief and seclusion while serving as an enabler in purging.

The bathroom also served as a source of self disgust. When you think about it, during my "ritual", I was placing my face mere inches from where people literally put their shit. And I was okay with this, seeking out and finding comfort in this routine. It was fucking repulsive. _I_ was fucking repulsive and the very epitome of abhorrence for choosing to do this, for knowing, even while I was chewing the infrequent meals that served as my masquerade, that I would be venturing to this temple to sacrifice any ounce of pride I had so that I could feel that emptiness again. I hated myself for it. But not enough to stop.

I took a long hot shower, relaxing in the spray and puddles around my feet. I was a bit overcome with anxiety and I wished I had some of those little pills to make me focus, or even a joint so I could just calm down. I was itching in my own skin, my chest tight and not letting my lungs expand fully. I felt like I couldn't breathe. For the first time in a while I almost wished I could eat because I had been doling out Percocet to Charlie for the last two days. Percocet really needs to be partnered with food though, and that just wasn't feasible. After my shower, I rifled through the medicine cabinet looking for anything I could take to calm me down, but all I could find was some cough syrup. Swigging straight from the bottle, I hoped it would be enough. I finally was able to fall asleep with the help of my constant drug, Joni's words a soothing lullaby forcing me into nothingness. _"I wish I had a river I could skate away on…"_

…

Shit, I was going to be late to school. My prehistoric vehicle was groaning as I punched the clutch and forced the truck into fourth gear. A small compact car sped around me, passing on the left and flipping me off. It's not my fault this truck has a maximum speed of fifty. I just sighed and struggled to find the exit off the highway through the thick cloud cover that had enveloped the town during the night.

I almost missed the school, turning at the last minute and practically maneuvering a u-turn in order to make the exit.

I had woken up late, groggy and disheveled from a night of deep sleep, the cough syrup effective. I still hadn't decided on anything to wear, so I had spent twenty minutes this morning staring at the same five t-shirts. I finally just put on a plain black long-sleeved shirt and my jeans. I twirled my hair in a bun, tossed my coat on and headed to check on Charlie.

Charlie was still in his bed, lying on his back, elevated on a stack of humongous pillows. I couldn't really tell if he was breathing so I stood there staring at his chest waiting to see it rise and fall. My eyes hadn't fully adjusted to daylight yet, making them unreliable from that distance, so I had entered the room and walked over to Charlie's bedside. I leaned over his large body, placed my face close to his nose, and felt a warm exhale tickle my cheek, the scent of sweat and the chalky hint of his medication whispering across my face. I sighed, relief flooding my veins, coursing through my body and making me feel lightheaded. Just then Charlie had begun to stir so I quickly sprinted out of the room before I had to uneasily explain why I was listening to him breathe.

I ran out the door and into a freezing fog, slipping and falling on my ass once in the driveway. I got in the truck and locked the door with shaking hands and fumbled the keys into the ignition. I had dropped them three times before I was able to start the engine. I hadn't realized the gravity of this situation I had put myself in until that moment. What if he had been dead? The idea of being in the same room with the dead body of my kinda father had made me panic. I wasn't able to control my emotions and my eyes welled with tears, my breathing erratic and expanding in my chest.

So I sat in the that driveway this morning for fifteen minutes trying to calm my breathing and just function normally so I could drive to school. Hence, the tardiness.

I pulled into the parking lot, dodging a few other overdue students. Scanning the other cars, I searched for the silver Volvo but I didn't see it. A shock of panic bolted through me. I parked quickly and raced inside the building.

Running and panting for lack of stamina, I headed to English, the missing Volvo on the forefront of my mind. There's no way I would be able to concentrate without knowing why that car was M.I.A. I still had, like, four hours before lunch. I'd never been so eager for a meal in all my life.

I doodled my way through my classes, taking incoherent notes and sketching strawberries and dark eyes in the margins of my notebook. My mind was invaded with meaningless conversation during Spanish, Jessica talking about a party at Mike's house on Friday. She was spouting details of her favorite drinks, I think trying to impress me, when she mentioned a name that suddenly made me focus.

"_I kind of had a thing with Edward Cullen…"_ was what I had caught. My pencil froze and I looked up, maybe a little too quickly.

"Who?" I asked, cutting her off.

She was taken aback by my sudden interest in the conversation. "Edward Cullen. I'll point him out in the lunch room. He's so totally hot but, like, really antisocial. I kind of had this thing with him a couple of months ago, but I broke it off because he's a psycho, like, totally crazy."

"What? What do you mean crazy?" I pried, thirsting for the information and disgusted at the thought of her anywhere near his _thing_.

"I hooked up with him at my party a while ago. We were both totally drunk, and, yeah it was hot, but he was a total dick afterward. Like hell if a guy thinks he can treat me like that and get away with it. I dumped him on his sorry crazy ass," she explained smugly.

Well this was enlightening. For the first time I really took in Jessica's appearance. She was very petite yet also curvy, her figure rounding in all the appropriate places. Her dark curly hair framed her very ordinary face, and she was constantly batting her big doe-eyes, perpetuating a state of constant bewilderment. She wasn't bad looking, pretty even with all the effort she put into it, but she definitely wasn't gorgeous. She wasn't who I imagined Edward would choose. She didn't even have any of those redeeming personality characteristics that eventually softened a person's outer appearance, like a sense of humor or a kind soul. She was catty and felt the need to fill every silence with empty conversation. And she just seemed so typical. Typical and boring. Why would he like her?

And why did I care so much?

I was so consumed by my thoughts that I almost missed the next part of her disclosure.

"I'd been dying to get with him for, like, two years. Him and his sister moved here when their parents died. They live with their aunt and uncle now." She leaned closer to me. I slightly flinched, her proximity annoying. "Everyone thinks there's, like, some scandal involved. Nobody really knows, it's all very mysterious. More like a sack of shit if you ask me."

Hmm, sour grapes much?

Christ, Edward Cullen was getting hotter by the second. Let's see, he was a total smart ass, aloof, and surrounded by a scandal involving dead parents. I always get into these fucked up relationships, like gravity pulling me towards a black hole. Every relationship I'd ever been in was a complete disaster, not that there'd been that many to begin with.

There was the narcissist, the guy who thought he was God's gift to women but couldn't get me off to save his life and who fucked one of my friends when I wouldn't sleep with him. I mean, if he couldn't finger me properly, what good would his dick do? He had even less control of that appendage.

Then the pacifist, you know, one of those sensitive types, weasels his way into the confines of your mind and soul, pretends like he "gets" you, tells you everything you want to hear until you realize that you want him. Yeah, he fucked _all_ of my friends when I wouldn't hand him my virginity. I tried, but it was just weird, no chemistry at all, like kissing my brother or something.

Then there was the antagonist. I had hated him. All through middle school he had teased me, called me skinny dog-face. He would knock my books out of my hands when we were walking in the hall, throw food at me in the lunch room, stupid petty shit that I should have been mature enough to get over. But I wasn't. Turns out he just had a big crush on me and didn't know how to curb his Cro Magnum tendencies. We went out twice and both times I acted like a total bitch. I hold grudges, it's a personality flaw.

I utterly failed at relationships. I always found something wrong with the guy, which was usually the exact characteristic that had drawn me to him in the first place until my instinct for self-preservation would kick in and I'd find a way out. In the true blue words of Miss Mitchell, "_And if you care, don't let them know. Don't give your heart away."_

"Bella?" Jessica was looking at me like _I_ was fucking crazy now. I wondered how long she'd been calling my name. "Are you coming to lunch?"

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. The period had passed quicker than I was ready for. I looked around. The class was pretty much empty with only a few stragglers at the teacher's desk and everyone else filing out the door. Jessica was standing over me, her arms crossed, tapping her foot impatiently.

"Yeah sorry. I was totally spacing." I closed my notebook, wondering how Jessica was going to react when I left her to sit with Alice and her infamous brother.

I followed Jessica to the lunch room, lagging behind, using her as a shield of sorts, trying desperately to reign in my nerves. My heart was racing in my throat and pounding in my ears, my face flushed with warmth. I was probably beet red, the depraved blush destroying any mask of cool I had hoped to conjure up. If I could just get through the lunch period without pissing Edward off, I would consider the meeting a success.

I followed Jessica to the lunch counter, not yet surveying the tables. I didn't want to look at him until it was absolutely necessary.

I was grabbing a salad when I felt a tap on my shoulder.

"Hi Bella!" Alice, clad in tight black skinny jeans and a long black and white sweater, bangles clanging around her tiny wrists, was standing beside me now. Her hair was parted on the side today, very smooth and stylish, _à la_ Mia Farrow in Rosemary's Baby. "Are you still going to sit with us?" She eyed Jessica warily, but Jessica refused to make eye contact with her focusing instead on an apparently fascinating piece of lettuce that had fallen out of her salad and onto her tray.

"Um, sure. I promised, right?" Jessica's eyes shot up to meet mine, her look of pure detest piercing right through me. Shit, I'd only been here three days and already I was pissing everybody off.

"I'll see you later Jessica." Looking away, like a coward, I paid for my lunch and followed Alice. I was pretty sure Jessica wanted to bitch slap me right there in the lunch room. I didn't have the guts to look at her to see the expression on her face.

Alice led me to a table towards the back of the lunchroom, near the back door. A huge wall of a human stood up as we approached the table. He was towering and intimidating and my steps faltered a bit as we approached him. Hoping Alice hadn't noticed, I tried to quickly regain my composure.

"Relax, it's just Emmett," she murmured under her breath. "My cousin. He's a teddy bear, I promise."

So she had noticed my stumbling insecurities. Is there anything she doesn't see?

Now that we were close I could see a definite gentle nature about him. He was smiling, a curve in his angular jaw. He looked so childlike, with dimples and dark tight curls adding to his charm. He was standing with his arms folded across his chest, and he was huge. His t-shirt strained against his pectorals, tendons and skin stretched tight across his massive neck.

He held out a hand as we walked up to the table, smiling warmly.

"Hi there Bella. Emmett Cullen." He shook my hand, his large, rough grip enveloping mine. "This is Rosalie, my girlfriend." He motioned to a girl still sitting at the table, previously hidden by his massive form.

Rosalie stood up and I instantly felt like shit, like total, insignificant shit. She was gorgeous, my total antithesis. Her honey blond hair waved around her perfect face, violet eyes glittering and slightly smug. Her eyelids were adorned with a light brown shadow and lined with a perfect smoky streak and mascara enhanced her eyelashes, like tiny brushes sweeping her cheekbones when she blinked. I couldn't help but envy her curvaceous figure. She was right out of an Italian Renaissance painting, Birth of fucking Venus and shit, which was a far cry from my flat and bony form.

She held out her hand, "Pleasure. Bella, is it?" Her fingers were long and manicured and she just reeked of blue blood, royalty. "Rosalie Hale." As I shook her hand, she looked down at my appearance, apparently engaging in the same surveillance, yet obviously, judging by the smirk on her lips, a very different perception than mine.

"So, Bella, how did you and our Alice meet?" Rosalie knew she was treading on delicate waters, it was evident in her tone of voice, and she didn't care. She wanted exposure, like a lioness hunting her weak prey.

I panicked, not quite sure what to say, how much Alice would want them to know about the smoking and the ditching. I knew that she had said that Edward was protective, but I didn't know about her relationship with Emmett. And I didn't think that I wanted to see him angry.

"What do you mean?" I decided on ignorance. So what if I perpetuated her already developing opinion of my low intelligence.

"Well, Alice is a sophomore, dear. I doubt she has any classes with you." Rosalie smiled down at me before fluidly taking her seat, almost melting into the hard plastic chair. Emmett, occupying the chair next to her, pulled a huge sack of food from his backpack. He started unloading the containers. Chicken salad, mixed vegetables, two turkey sandwiches, a bag of chips, a protein bar and a package of Twinkies. How could one person eat that much food?

I looked at Alice for help, who was seated on the table now, a bundle of silk in her hand, an apple in the other.

"We had a smoke together in the bathroom," Alice shrugged, taking a large bite of her apple with a satisfying crunch. I could live with that. I sat down in a chair opposite Rosalie and Emmett. There were two unoccupied chairs at the table, and I was sitting right in the middle of them, forcing the still missing Edward to sit by me. I initially thought about moving over one seat, giving him a choice, but I was frozen in that chair. Where was he?

Rosalie grimaced, "Smoking is disgusting Alice. You're going to end up looking like a shriveled old hag. Do you like little wrinkles around your lips and yellow teeth? Plus it stinks." She opened the container of chicken salad. Emmett continued to shovel food into his face, the sight literally making me a bit nauseous.

"I kind of like the way tobacco smells," I said quietly. Alice and Rosalie both looked at me then, their contrasting expressions causing me to snort slightly. Emmett stopped chewing his protein bar and looked directly at Rosalie. Alice was smiling, triumph and conviction apparent in her features. She took another bite of her apple and shrugged her shoulders at Rosalie, clearly conveying an "I don't give a shit" stance on the issue. She began shuffling her cards, her silk scarf laid out on the table.

Rosalie had frozen mid scoop, her fork still in the air, and if looks could kill, well, I'd be rotting away in Forks cemetery.

She quickly smoothed her appearance, plastering on a sweet smile. "To each her own," she said calmly, still meeting my eyes and daring me to look away, like some fucked up stare down. What the hell is this chick's deal?

Not one to back down from a challenge, I smiled back, staying silent. Rosalie looked away first, her eyes slowly moving down to my food tray. At first I felt victorious, having beaten her at her own pissing contest. Then, intuition and resolve flashed in her eyes. She met my gaze quickly upon registering my lunch choice and I'm sure paranoia was evident in my expression.

"Would you like some of my chicken salad, Bella?" She asked appraisingly. "I noticed you were only able to get a spring mix before Alice tore you away from the lunch counter." Damn this bitch and her passive aggressive bullshit.

"I'm okay, thanks. Vegetarian." Did she think she was dealing with an amateur here? I'd been doing this for way too long to not think up a million reasons for why I didn't eat.

"Really? Well, that explains why you're so thin. Do you take supplements?" Rosalie took a dainty bite of her chicken salad, chewing and waiting for my reply. I seriously wanted to punch her in the face.

Alice came to my rescue once again. "Rose, knock it off. Now you're just being a bitch." She continued to shuffle her cards. A moment later she dumped them across the scarf and ran her fingers through them, mixing and turning the jumble of color.

Rosalie looked at Alice incredulously. "Alice, I'm merely interested in your new friend and her extremely interesting lifestyle." Rosalie's eyes glinted with double meaning. "Speaking of lifestyle, Alice have you seen my brother today?"

Alice stuttered in her card shuffling for the slightest second. She glanced at Emmett who was lost in his food orgy, obviously oblivious to any underlying meaning behind the conversation. "Yes, Rose, I'd have to say I saw your brother quite thoroughly this morning." She smirked at Rosalie, satisfied with the grimace she was receiving in return.

Taking advantage of this distraction, I nudged some of the greens off my plate, trying to be discreet, as if they just accidentally spilled onto the table. I chewed a small bite of the salad, the saliva pooling in the back of my throat. Swallowing was difficult, my stomach already rejecting the foreign matter trying to occupy space. I paused, waiting for the compulsion to stop.

Alice had finished shuffling the cards now and I looked up to find her green eyes trying to make sense of my demeanor. She was slightly squinting, her head tilted to one side, lips pursed. I faltered in my reassuring smile, small, tight-lipped and fake, just like me. I felt like shit, total fucking shit, because she had been nothing but honest and trusting with me and I could not return the honor. And I still couldn't work up the nerve to ask Alice about her brother. The expectation of his arrival was making it difficult to focus on anything else.

"So Bella, are you going to party with us this weekend?" Emmett asked, interrupting my self loathing. He moved on to the sandwiches, taking large bites, and storing the enormous bulge in his cheek as he spoke.

"Yes, Bella is definitely going to party with us this weekend," Alice answered for me.

"Really? Is that what the cards told you?" I asked, teasing. The last time I had partied I ended up in the emergency room and I really didn't want a repeat of that disastrous event. Then again, I did just want to fucking escape, lose myself in the influx of chemicals, altering the synaptic functioning. I just wanted to feel good for a while, not have to worry about my dad or my diet or that beautiful boy that keeps invading my dreams. And who knows, this party might lead me to a supplier, the desire for the pretty pills increasing as my inability to be normal reared its ugly head.

"Oh, come on Bella! It'll be fun, I promise." Alice winked, causing me to grin. "Mike Newton's a douche but his desire to please is favorable to our desire to get totally faded."

"Okay, but I'm a mean drunk. And I fall down a lot. Are you sure you can handle mumbling and stumbling Bella?" I was only slightly joking. I couldn't even tell you the number of injuries I'd sustained while under the influence.

Emmett laughed, "Oh, I think we can handle that. What are you, like, ninety pounds?" My gaze immediately dropped at the mention of my weight, insecurity flooding my psyche. Why do people always notice this? They never noticed my eyes or my hair or even the clumsiness. But it never fails, someone will always comment on my weight.

Rosalie snorted, rolling her eyes and placing the lid on her container of chicken salad. She threw the container into Emmett's paper sack, and folded her arms across her chest.

"Bella! This is going to be awesome! It'll be totally memorable, I promise!" Alice was squealing, her enthusiasm a little overwhelming.

"Okay, are you ready?" Alice asked me, waving the stack of cards. Emmett leaned forward, placing his forearms on the table, flashing a deliberate grin. Rosalie shifted in her seat, leaning toward Alice now. I found her interest somewhat perplexing. Why would she care what these cards had to say? She had already made her opinion of me very clear and it made me self-conscious knowing that she would be listening.

"Sure, I guess. What do I have to do?" I was starting to feel uneasy, like maybe this was a mistake. I didn't have too much experience with the occult; it always just seemed kind of cheesy to me, crystal balls and magic cards with the ability to tell the future. It totally negated the idea of free will, like nothing could stop the train wreck that you're destined for from happening. I guess I could indulge Alice, though, a small way to make up for all my failures as a friend.

"You don't really have to do anything. Just open your mind and relax. You need to meditate on a question, either verbally or internally, it doesn't really matter, but I can help with the interpretation if I know what to look for," Alice explained.

"Okay." I was definitely apprehensive now. What could I ask of a pack of cards? Where the hell was Edward? That was by far the biggest question invading my brain with maddening persistence. But that didn't seem significant enough because if I could just muster up the courage I would be able to solve that mystery this very moment.

I took a deep breath. Alice was waiting for me and I just kept drawing a blank. "Shit, I don't know Alice. Do I have to ask something?"

Alice sighed. "It makes it easier. Come on, anything. It doesn't have to be life altering."

Shit Bella, think of something, anything.

I closed my eyes and saw his flushed, full lips, his smile uneven and dazzling. I thought of the grocery store, a flood of warm honey and lilac, greens and grays, engulfing and suffocating, my breath quickening at the memory. I opened my eyes, inhaling sharply as I was met with those green eyes.

Alice was staring at me, waiting, her emerald pupils mirroring her brothers. "Okay, I've got it." I managed to mumble.

Alice began to lay the cards. She was pulling them at random and placing them in a semi-circle on her scarf. She was muttering to herself as she pulled each card, finding significance in the patterns and pictures.

"Death," she said as she touched the first card.

I couldn't help but snort. Alice glared at my mockery. "Don't even start, Bella." She rolled her eyes at me, muttering, "You sound like my brother."

I stilled at this, the knots in my stomach tightening. How pathetic can I be that the mere mention of his existence sends me into such a spiral?

"Sorry," I apologized. "I'll be good."

"Death in this position represents your past, the path of sweeping change that cannot be avoided," Alice continued.

Again with the negating of free will. _Cannot be avoided._Please! Skepticism was brewing in my facial features and I quickly snuffed it out before Alice could suspect anything.

"This card is the present, the Nine of Cups, representing sensual pleasure, experiencing beauty." Alice squinted at me, probably trying to figure out whose beauty I was experiencing presently. _Presently, my dear, his beauty is not at my disposal to experience…_

"Why Bella, I do believe you're blushing." Emmett said chuckling, while Rosalie smirked at my discomfort.

I was horrified by what my face exposed. I'm like an open book when it comes to this kind of shit, that fucking pink tint giving me away every time.

"All right, knock it off." Alice touched the next card. "The Moon is your influence, chasing after some fantasy, deceiving yourself." It could not get any worse. Emmett was laughing gregariously now.

"Emmett, I swear to God, shut the fuck up. I can't do this when you're all obnoxious and shit." Alice was getting seriously pissed.

"Okay okay sorry. I'm done, I'm done." He ran his hand over his face, changing it into a calm mask. Rosalie giggled and smacked him on the chest.

I'd had enough though. I did not want to hear anything else. "Alice, why don't we just stop? Really, it's not my thing." I pleaded with her. I didn't want to hear I was deceiving myself into thinking I could be loved. The nausea was stirring in my gut, uneasy and tempting. If Edward wasn't even here today I'd be able to stop at the school day-puking bathroom.

Alice's face was mustering up all kinds of conviction. "No! I'm going to finish, you're going to listen and you two," she pointed at Rosalie and Emmett, "are going to shut the hell up."

And for some reason we did.

Alice, satisfied with our compliance, continued. "Your obstacles are represented by Temperance, renewing health, healing, recovery."

I'll say. Yeah, that was kind of bizarre. I tried to look as nonchalant as possible, but Alice's predictions were really starting to get under my skin. I didn't say anything, though. I didn't want to unleash the wrath of the pixie demon again.

"Your hopes, setting a course for the future, Justice." She glanced up at me, gauging my response and I forced myself to appear emotionless. But it was becoming intolerable. I felt warmth spread from my chest, choking in my throat but I stifled it down.

"Forgive yourself; forgive others, Judgment representing the best course of action." She was quiet now, as was I. And as I stared at her while she watched the cards, I couldn't stop it, a solitary tear streaked down my cheek, followed by another betrayal, the warm, salty liquid trailing down my face. I couldn't even bring myself to wipe it away, the telling movement sure to be my undoing. I just turned my cheek to my shoulder to blot it dry.

Alice touched the last card. "The World, the outcome, Bella. Pleasure in life, rendering a service." Alice sighed. "I always love it when it ends happily." She grinned at me but her face fell as she saw the traitorous emotion plastered across my face.

"Bella? Are you okay?" Alice asked me quietly.

And I turned on the show. I smiled brightly, hoping my eyes didn't look as dead as they felt. "Of course! I got the World. That's good, right?"

Alice smiled softly, "Right," she nodded. I looked towards the clock in the lunch room. How much longer before I could hide in my car. I decided I was definitely ditching class today.

Just as I was opening my mouth to excuse myself from this disaster, I heard a calm, smooth voice behind me.

"So, I talked to my people and apparently it was Demitri and Felix who fucked up your brother yesterday." I turned in my chair swiftly to find Jasper speaking to Alice. They stared into each others eyes, a fleeting moment of understanding passing between them, a mixture of longing and gratefulness playing upon Alice's features.

"Ugh, your brother is such an idiot. What was he thinking? He knows those guys are total assholes." Rosalie rolled her eyes.

"I'm going to fucking kick their asses!" Emmett was pissed. "You should have seen his face man. Carlisle had to give him six stitches." I gulped, wishing I had gotten a drink. My throat was closing, my breathing labored. The vomit was swelling in my throat and I swallowed it back, forcing myself to keep shit together.

I didn't understand. He was fine, and I mean _fine_, yesterday during class. His face was perfect right up until…

Oh my God, please say I'm not responsible for this. Please, please let it be something else, anything else.

Alice spoke next, "Emmett, you know he did it on purpose." I looked down at the cards still lying on the table. Please someone clarify, I was silently begging them to disclose more.

But they were all silent. They _did_ know, and I didn't. I was the outsider here, intruding in their business and they weren't going to fill me in. Fuck!

I had to know. I wasn't going to be able to live with myself if I didn't find out. I wanted in.

Swallowing my pride I asked, "Why would he do it on purpose?" They all turned to look at me but Alice was the one who spoke.

"I overheard them in the hall. He told Carlisle it was because of a girl."

And I lost it. I felt the saliva filling my mouth. I had to get out of here! I dry heaved once, jumping out of my seat, my hand flying to cover my mouth, and racing for the door. I heard the cries behind me, the sound of thudding boots following me as I ran out of the lunch room and into the freezing fog. I leaned over the railing of the planter and dry heaved again. Fuck! I had nothing in my stomach to purge, the poor excuse of a salad that I had ingested for lunch stuck in my throat. I coughed, spitting the small amount of bitter bile now released, tears just fucking pouring down my face.

Alice caught up with me, "Bella! Fuck!" She was panting, bending over trying to catch her breath. "Are you sick? What's wrong? Do you need to go to the nurse?"

I shook my head no, just feeling horrible and wrong. "I'm so sorry, Alice." I couldn't think of anything else to say. "I'm so fucking sorry." And I was wishing like hell I could tell this to Edward, see him, see what I had caused, and fix this. Instead, I poured my apologies into Alice.

"Alice, I'm so sorry, so sorry." I just kept repeating it over and over again. Alice was dumbfounded and didn't know what to do. She wrapped her arm around my shoulders and hugged me until the sobs eventually stopped.

...

**A/N**

Joni Songs Referenced:

_Clouds_

_River_

Party's next...should be a good time for all, right???

Review, bb's, Review! (*wink)


	6. I Could Drink a Case of You

Darlings,

Wow, what a freaking week. I'm overwhelmed by the many reviews and alerts and favs and all that shit is amazing! Thank you, dear readers, for such honesty! You guys are phenomenal and we have a beautiful thing going on here!

And I can't send enough thanks to the amazingly talented **ilsuocantante **for recommending this fic on The Twilight Sisterhood and for setting up the thread on Twilighted. Dude, you rock my world and could quite possibly be my literary soul-mate. I'm going to post the links on my profile, checkity check it!

**Larin20**, deary, thank you for recommending as well. I can't believe all the generosity I've encountered in this process! And the girls at rehab, I swear, you make my day, all of you, my own little support group, like on Fight Club, right? See, I told you Jezz, this is totally our Fight Club!! Watch it already!!

And my fascinating and extrodinary beta, **n7of9**, holy shit, you're are my idol. You're on a pedestal bitch, and I'm so worshipping you!! You deserve a thousand robwards at your disposal for putting up with me.

Disclaimer: I don't own it.

Ch. 6-"_I could drink a case of you…_" Ah, Joni soothes my soul!

BPOV

"Bella, you have to get up." Alice was trying to pull me up from my prostrated position. At some point in the last fifteen minutes my legs had stopped supporting my body and I had slid down the outside brick wall of the lunch room, curling into a ball and pressing my forehead to the cold, hard ground. I was feeling lightheaded now, my heart thumping in my throat, the lack of calorie consumption enhancing my distress and adding another element to this already fucked up situation. With weakness emitting from my pours, and physically and mentally exhausted, I tried to sit up, my head swimming with fatigue. I needed to eat something, anything. I knew I had pushed my body too far and the starvation was now taking its toll.

And yet, despite the failings of my body, all I could focus on was what Alice had said.

"_He told Carlisle it was about a girl."_

It could be a coincidence, right? I mean, the fact that after one stupid conversation with me Edward would go get his ass kicked on purpose was ridiculous. Why would it matter to him what I thought? I was trying to reassure myself, ease my aching conscience, but I couldn't help but feel responsible. I had seen the look on his face, flat and inhuman. And the way he had left that classroom, a mad dash out the door, it was obvious something was terribly wrong.

"Alice, I think I need to eat something," I mumbled into the ground. I was dangerously close to passing out, spots before my eyes, white and swirling, distracting my vision and I blinked trying to rid my sight of the intruders. I was starting to feel warm, sweat beading on my forehead and nose despite the cold mist and fog still hovering over the town. A light rain was dampening my hair and shirt now and I realized I was shaking, my fingers tingling and trembling. I kept wringing my hands, folding and unfolding them, desperately trying to get the shaking to stop.

"Bella, I'm going to take you to the nurse. Can you walk?" Alice was trying to lift me up from the ground but I was having difficulty supporting myself. I sat up slowly, trying to dissipate the vertigo.

"I just need something to eat, Alice. Can you get me a fucking cracker or something? Or some juice?" I could barely get the words out.

"Okay. I'm going to go get you something. Wait here." If I would have had the energy I would have rolled my eyes. I mean, honestly, where the hell was I going to go in this condition?

As I lay on the cool concrete, with precipitation saturating my shirt and my hair starting to stick to the skin of my forehead and neck, I struggled to find strength. The smell of wet concrete, earthy limestone and mineral, solidified in my head, the geological aggregate beginning to pull me from the confines of my incoherency. I inhaled deeply, just trying to gain some control of my body. I knew I was totally fucked. I mean, in addition to the fact that my body was starting to shut down, Alice was going to figure this shit out. I would have to explain my behavior and I didn't know what to say. I had already passed this shit off as nerves before, so there was no way all-knowing Alice was going to let this slide again.

Able to sit up now, I waited patiently for Alice to return, dreading the conversation that would surely take place. _"We can't return, we can only look behind from where we came…"_ The Circle Game. Joni's tune slapped me in the face, demanding, questioning: How many times are we going to go through this, Bella?

When she returned she brought with her a package of Twinkies and a Coke. Are you fucking kidding me?

"I think you're going into shock, Bella," Alice said as she knelt down next to me, opening the package and handing me the squishy cake. It just reeked of high fructose corn syrup and hydrogenated oil. Jasper had followed Alice out of the lunch room and was surveying my condition.

I hesitated, knowing that this may end badly. I hadn't had any type of sweets in years and I really had no desire to consume this chemical cataclysm of cake, but I knew I wouldn't be able to move until I had some sort of fuel racing through my blood, igniting my metabolism and regulating my bodily functions again.

"You need the sugar, just eat it," Jasper said, sensing my vacillation. I took a small bite, chewing quickly and swallowing the thick sponge. Alice handed me the now opened Coke and I swallowed the fizzy liquid, gulping the sugary syrup in an attempt to force the provisions into my system.

Alice and Jasper kept glancing at each other like I was five years old and mommy and daddy had to tell me my puppy had died. It was so fucking patronizing, I felt miserable that I had let myself get to this point. I closed my eyes so I didn't have to see the worry on their faces. I was not something to be worried about. I hated this more than anything. There are people out there with real problems, problems they have no control over. And here I am, willingly destroying myself. I didn't deserve any of it, their pity or their patience. I kind of wished they would just slap the shit out of me for being such a selfish asshole.

"You're wrong you know." Alice's voice was quiet and certain. "Whatever you're thinking, it's wrong."

Fuck, she is a tricky pixie! How the hell does she do that? I'm sure my face was a mix of shock and incomprehension because she just smiled and stood up.

"Alice, I'm sorry. I'm just…" I couldn't make my mouth form the words. I wanted to tell her but my own sense of self preservation was prohibiting me from giving her the truth. "I'm just…" I tried again.

"It's okay Bella. I know." Alice rescued me from my pitiful attempt at honesty. I didn't really know what this meant exactly, or how much she actually did know, but right now I was grateful for the interruption.

"Come on, we're going to take you home. Where are your keys?" Alice continued

"In my backpack, in the lunch room," I answered, and Alice went to get my things. I took another drink of the Coke, the carbonation tickling my throat. I was starting to feel normal again, my body ceasing to shake and spin. I knew we were dangerously close to the end of the lunch hour and really didn't feel like being a spectacle again today, so I allowed Jasper to help me to my feet. Alice returned, my backpack and coat in her arms, my keys in her hand. We walked to my truck, Jasper supporting most of my weight, and Alice linked onto my other arm.

…

I fell into my bed the moment my legs were able to reach the small room. My brain was just throbbing, the implications of this afternoon thick and sticky. I slept for hours, waking up well into the night rested and completely awake. It was fucking 2:30 in the morning and I was trapped in this prison of a room, with jack shit to do, alone with the constant nagging of my own conscious. I left my cell and headed downstairs, looking for a distraction, anything to pull me from own head. The house was completely silent, energy vibrating in my eardrums. The stairs creaked softly as I tried to silently navigate in the dark.

The small living room was pitch black and I waded my way to the secondhand couch. I sank into the velvet and stale plush, finding comfort in the springy coils groaning beneath me. Memories permeated my awareness, the relief I had found on this couch as a child was tangible and in my fingertips as I clutched the crocheted afghan that stretched across the back of the piece of furniture. I wove my fingers through the intricate series of knots, the yarn course and brittle with age. Bringing the scratchy fabric to my face, I inhaled deeply, dust and musk now enveloping me in a tide of emotion. Guilt, the gnawing burn of remorse bitter in my core, was truncated only by the span of self disgust pounding in my head. The hunger that I normally used for a distraction was satiated, the Twinkie and Coke swiftly absorbed and placating that emptiness.

Without the pills, my brain was an open wound, and without my permission it recollected the last time I had slept on this couch. I was nine years old and I had strep throat, and Charlie had taken me to the hospital. I really hated needles and I had cried like an infant when the nurse had brought the little syringe into the room. My dad, not wanting me to be alone in this misery, asked the nurse if she would shove a needle in his ass too. She declined, of course, but my dad saying ass to a complete stranger, to my nine year old self, was the most hilarious thing I'd ever heard. I giggled my way through the shot, and even during the ice cream sundaes that we had enjoyed afterwards, as I curled up on this very couch with this very fucking afghan, my toes twisted in the gaps. We had watched "Annie" and I had fallen asleep, content and loved, with sugar in my blood and a song in my head.

When had the shift occurred? I tried to remember my childhood mother, but all I could see was my father's face and smiling eyes, and I wondered what the catalyst was that destroyed that spark. In less than ten years, how had I found myself so removed from that child, a child that loved the man that was now choosing stagnation and sulking in that room above me? I wanted to feel that love again, I was just aching for it, the need causing my chest to gape and swell, guilt and hate and disgust pouring out as I pressed the bundle of blanket to my chest in an attempt to hold it all in because this is what I felt comfortable in, wrapped in a tiny cocoon of self pity and contempt. But it was all there now, every sense persistent and rich with recollection. I took some deep breaths, trying to gain control of this new influx of emotion. I remained in that position, curled in a ball, snared in the refuge of tangled yarn, just fucking feeling something other than hunger or intoxication, until the sky eventually lightened and the thick weight of the darkness had lifted. _"Only a dark cocoon before I get my gorgeous wings and fly away."_

…

"Bella, just fucking try it on." Alice was handing me a yellow piece of itchy fabric, crinkled and flowing. There was no way that cheery ass color was getting on my body. It would be a total façade, the sunshine and warmth a fucking joke. I looked at the pile of clothing in my grip, a tumble of blacks and grays, the dark palette more pleasing to my aesthetic.

"I'm not going to wear that. I can't believe you think I would willingly put that shit on." I threw the shirt into the pile of color that was now accumulating in the aisle of the thrift store Alice had suggested for some new threads. Alice had this thing for thrift stores, she said she refused to pay ungodly amounts of money for something that companies pay peanuts to underdeveloped countries to manufacture. This was perfect for me, seeing as how my funds were seriously limited and I wasn't going to ask Charlie for cash. The party was tomorrow night and I was in dire need of some new clothes. The school day had passed without incident, Edward still missing from our Biology class, but now that I knew why, I was able to relax and concentrate somewhat. I even took some comfort in the fact that I knew why he was gone and the others didn't, like some sick inside joke I was just grateful to be a part of.

"You have to get something other than black. You need to broaden your spectrum. Color is beautiful, Bella. Don't be afraid! Step into the light…" She waved the yellow shirt which she had resurrected from the floor in front of my face, and I actually fucking flinched at the material. Alice's hair was spiky today, forming a slight peak on the top of her head, a picture of punk perfection.

"Can't we start with something a little less bright? Maybe a dark purple or something?" I searched the racks, finding a midnight blue jacquard blazer. "Like this!" I held the jacket up for her to see. "This is beautiful." I took the blazer off the hanger and tried it on, buttoning the center button. It was a light coat and wouldn't provide much warmth, but it hung nicely, adding somewhat of a curve to my stick figure.

"Bella, that's way too big. You're drowning in that thing." Alice pulled some tiny jeans off the rack and tossed them to me. "Here, you'll have to wear something really tight underneath that to balance out."

I held the pants up, checking the size. Size two. There was no way my ass was going to squeeze into these toddler pants. Alice is crazy.

"These aren't going to fit, Alice. I think I wear a size four." I threw them back at her.

Alice snorted, catching the pants, "Yeah, and I'm from the future. You're totally a size two. Stop being difficult and just try them on." She threw them back at me and continued to look through the racks, trying on shirts over her tank top in the aisle and continually reaffirming my ignorance when it came to this kind of shit.

I took the pants into the dressing room, along with the blazer and my handful of dark material. I could distinctly recall this past Christmas wearing a size four. My mom had bought me some slacks in the attempt to sharpen up my appearance. They were now circulating the Phoenix Goodwill, having not survived the great wardrobe purge. But I definitely remember them being a size four because Renee had been so proud of that fact. _"That's the same size I had worn in high school! Before I had you, of course. Children ruin your body Bella. After having a baby, you're never the same."_ I had vomited twice that Christmas evening.

I pulled the stiff denim around my legs, expecting the material to strain. The pants pulled on easily, buttoning snugly, but comfortable. I was disgusted and amazed, staring at my reflection and the tiny silhouette that was staring back at me. How had I not noticed losing this much weight? You'd think I'd be able to perceive it every day, my current wardrobe growing larger as my body shrank. But I hadn't. I hardly paid attention, sure, but it had been only three months and already I had decreased two clothing sizes?

It had to be a mistake, the tag must be wrong. That could happen, right, especially in a thrift store? I mean, who knows where the hell this shit came from. I ripped the pants from my body, almost panicking when the pant leg got caught around my ankle, hopping and stumbling on one foot, desperate to have the material free from my skin. I threw them on the floor in disgust, and to my dismay, even stomped on them a little bit. Stupid thrift store toddler pants.

I left the wretched pants in the dressing room.

"Where are they?" Alice asked as I walked out, her arms full of clothing.

I shrugged, smoothing my tangled hair from my face and ignoring her suspicious eyes. "They didn't fit." I took my wallet and two peppermints from my bag, kindly giving Alice the hint I was ready to leave. I held up one of the mints to Alice and she took it from my hand, placing the other in my mouth. "I'm getting this jacket though, and these shirts."

"That's such bullshit, I know those pants fit. I've never been wrong, Bella. It's kind of my thing, do not take this away from me." The look on Alice's face was hilarious, as if her very self worth depended upon this admission. It was a little pathetic and utterly endearing.

"Alright, fine, they fit, but I looked ridiculous. Besides, I have lots of jeans. I really just need shirts. And this jacket. I totally need this jacket." I conceded.

"Honestly, Bella, you are so stubborn. Your lack of taste is almost self destructive." Alice popped the peppermint into her mouth, crumbling the wrapper and stuffing it into my tote.

Oh, Alice, you have no idea, I thought to myself.

…

We had gone shopping straight from school, and I was now wondering if Alice had a plan to get home and, more importantly, if I was going to be able to see where she and Edward lived. The thought of being given even this small detail had me envisioning the whole ordeal and romanticizing the occasion.

I'd been dying to see Edward since, well, truthfully, since he had stormed out of that classroom. But now that I knew I had quite possibly caused him so much pain, I wanted to assess the damage. I wanted to know what his face looked like, did he have any bruises or cuts? I mean, he hadn't been to school in two days, so it must have been pretty bad. More than anything, I wanted to apologize and explain about my big mouth, how sometimes it has a mind of its own and how sometimes I forget to use my filters. I would eat a huge ass pile of crow if he would just give me the chance.

When we pulled into my driveway I noticed a black Mercedes parked on the street in front of the house. I instantly thought something was wrong, this foreboding vehicle a symbol of gloom with its shiny dark paint and opaque tinted windows. Alice's reaction only perplexed me further.

"That's my uncle's car," Alice commented as we got out of the truck. "He must be here to check on Charlie."

I looked at her, confounded, _What the Fuck _probably plastered all over my telling face because she continued, "He's Charlie's doctor."

"Your uncle's a doctor?" I felt so ignorant, like a total idiot. I'd been living here with a man recovering from heart surgery and I didn't even know who his doctor was. In all honesty, I didn't really know anything about him at all.

"Yeah. Carlisle and your dad are buddies. He was there when your dad had the heart attack," Alice revealed nonchalantly.

"What? They're friends?" My voice was higher and louder than normal. I don't know why this information was shocking, it made sense that the town surgeon and the police chief would know each other, especially in a town as small as Forks. I guess I was irritated that knowledge of the elusive Edward Cullen could have been easily divulged at any time. Charlie probably knew everything about Edward and Alice. And then a shock of understanding made my stomach flip. How much about me did Carlisle know? I almost didn't want to find out because either way I would probably feel like shit.

"Yes," Alice answered, "they're friends. They used to go fishing together and Charlie would come over all the time to watch a game or just to shoot the shit." Alice was giving me the answers because she knew I couldn't ask the questions.

"Did he ever…" I was torn between not really wanting the answer and not being able to stop myself from asking. "Did he ever mention…me?"

The second the words were forced from my lips I instantly felt very vulnerable, yet eager to discover this small detail. It was something that had plagued me since my mom and I had left. Why hadn't he contacted us? Why didn't he try to find me? Was there some missing piece of this puzzle that I didn't know about, something that made this scenario something I could forgive?

Alice just shook her head, a reluctant silent no.

I nodded in understanding, my hope dissipating. I knew it. I had known all along. He didn't want me. He's a fucking cop for Christ's sake, he had connections and he could have tracked me down any time he wanted. The difference between ability and desire was apparent. He didn't give a shit. And I didn't know why.

"I'm sorry Bella." I could tell Alice was disappointed that she had to be the one to give me this information. I could tell that she wished she had a different answer for me. Believe me, so did I.

"Do be stupid, Alice. You had nothing to do with this." I was hoping to convey the right amount of reassurance and cool so that when I walked through that door my emotions wouldn't be so transparent.

"Oh, I know that. I'm just sorry he's been suck a prick." Alice definitely knows how to diffuse a situation. I was genuinely able to smile at that comment, allowing my emotions to stay beneath the surface.

"Thanks Alice," I paused, taking a deep breath through my nose. The air smelled of dew, crisp spruce and wet asphalt. "Me too."

Just as I turned to walk up the path to the front door it opened, and a very handsome man walked out of the house. I recognized the jaw line at once, the shape of his face distinctly familiar. He had short blond hair and crystal blue eyes that looked worn and knowledgeable. He was wearing a grey suit, a briefcase in his hand. He looked up, slightly startled to see us.

"Alice! What are you doing here?" He glanced at me as he addressed her, clearly assessing and making judgments about the situation. I could almost see the gears turning behind those clear pupils. He was a thinker, this one.

"Hey Carlisle. We were just shopping." Alice nodded her head towards me. "This is Charlie's daughter, Bella."

He looked at me now, meeting my eyes and sticking out a formal hand. "Ah, yes. I'm Carlisle Cullen, your father's doctor and friend. So nice to meet you Bella." He was wishing he could say _I've heard so much about you_, but he wasn't a liar, I could tell.

I met his hand with my own and mumbled, "Nice to meet you."

"How are you liking Forks so far?" Um, I'm pissing everyone off, I may have caused your nephew serious bodily harm because of my big fat mouth, and yesterday I thought my dad was dead and it freaked me out. Forks is fucking fantabulous.

"Forks is great. I'm lucky Alice has adopted me." It was a half truth.

He continued, "I was wondering when I would get to talk to you. Forgive me, I've been a little neglectful as of late. I usually check on my patients every other day." His demeanor was easy and nostalgic and he reminded me of a classic film, regal and undefiled by the masses, rich in storyline and sepia tone.

"No worries. He's been okay." I felt like such a damn fool. I had nothing to tell him, because I didn't really know. He should be talking to Billy or Sue, not me. I didn't have a clue what went on here during the day and I spent most of the evening in my room with my books, reliving some fictional character's experiences.

"Well, you see, I've spoken with Sue Clearwater and Billy Black. They seem to think he's had a rather negative attitude about his recovery. Would you agree?" Dr. Cullen tilted his head to the side, truly interested in my point of view, even though it was shit.

"Um…he's kind of quiet. He never moves from the bedroom. I don't even think he's been downstairs since I've been here." I knew this behavior wasn't conducive to a healthy recovery. Overachiever with internet access, remember? He needed to be moving to prevent blood clots and he needed to be practicing his deep breaths, to prevent pneumonia. He needed a positive mental attitude, because the psychological impact of this type of surgery could be devastating. He wasn't doing any of this and the consequences could be grisly, death being the most prominent. I knew all of this and still I tried nothing to fix it. Jesus, I am a total bitch.

"I was afraid of that. I'm going to need you to help him, Bella. He needs to start recovering. This stagnation that he's stuck in has to end. Do you think you can help us with this?" Dr. Cullen was staring intently at me, just pleading with me to agree. He must have been the doctor who called when Charlie had first had the heart attack because just like his last pleas for help, I couldn't say no.

"Yeah. I mean, I'll try. I really don't know what to say to him, he's so reclusive all the time, like mute. I don't know how much I can help." I didn't want to get the doc's hopes up. The way he was pleading with me you'd have thought I held the solution in my shopping bag.

"I think you can help more than you know," Dr. Cullen smiled and winked at me. What the hell did that mean?

"Okay." I looked down, feeling like the punch line to a joke I didn't understand.

"Well, it was nice to meet you Bella." Dr. Cullen looked over at Alice. "Are you going to be home soon Alice?"

"Actually, I can just ride with you. I was going to have Emmett pick me up after practice, but I'll just go with you now." Alice opened the door to the truck, reaching for her many bags, Dr. Cullen coming over to help her.

"Alright Bella. I'll see you tomorrow." Alice was barely visible behind her barrage of baggage.

"Okay, yeah. And thanks Alice, for the shopping." I was grateful to have something to wear that I hadn't already worn that week. I waited on the porch while Dr. Cullen and Alice got into the big black car, Alice waving as the car pulled away.

I sighed, trying to prepare for the task ahead of me. So, I'm supposed to convince the guy who basically denies my entire existence that he should man up, pull his head out his ass and get happy already? I wondered if Charlie owned any Broadway musicals. Those always made me laugh my ass off.

I walked into the house, pulling off my coat and dragging my new acquisitions to my room. I stood in my room for a moment in an internal battle of will, trying to make myself walk into Charlie's room. What the hell was I going to say to him? I couldn't even make myself well, how was I supposed to help somebody else?

I paced the hall outside Charlie's room before finally taking a deep breath and just barging in. Charlie was still in his bed, a various sporting event on the television. He had changed his sweats though, thank God for that.

"Hey, Dad?" I'm so horrible at this. I was trying to sound upbeat but that state of mind was so foreign to me, so it ended up sounding like a question instead.

Charlie startled in his position, grunting something that sounded like a "hmph", surprise and slight annoyance deep in his throat.

"Um, so what did you do today?" It seemed innocent enough. And I was, surprisingly enough, genuinely interested in the answer.

Charlie looked over at me, a sideways glance out of the corner of his eyes, like I was some swindler here to rip him off. I was starting to get annoyed with his totally unprovoked antagonistic responses. I mean, what the hell? Can't a daughter ask her father how his day was?

Charlie went back to watching television and I didn't know if he was even going to answer. I started to panic, the rejection of my attempt to converse stinging in my eyes. I turned to leave, but stopped when he finally responded.

"I didn't do shit today." His response was such a shift from the sparsely worded grunts and growls I was used to but I was still hesitant. I really did want to help Charlie because it was what I had come here to do, to offer my humility to Karma, but I still felt the aftertaste of Alice's bitter disclosure from earlier.

He continued through my silence, shocking the shit out of me. "I mean, what do you expect I did today?" He was annoyed, Dr. Cullen had probably already given him a similar speech to the one I was leading up to, and he saw it coming. "I've been sitting here, just like always. I can't do anything. I have nothing to watch and Billy can't cook for shit. I just want a beer and a steak and my pipe, none of this rabbit food bullshit. Can you get that for me Bella?"

Did he really think I was going to partner in his pity party or was this a rhetorical question? I honestly couldn't tell. I felt a strange kinship with my father in that moment. He wanted to indulge in those very habits that were killing him. He knew they were detrimental and he didn't care, either because he really wanted to disappear or because he was too selfish to change. Either way, I could relate.

I couldn't though, in good conscience, get him a smoke or a beer, but I could cook. Maybe not a steak, but something that could provide comfort just as easily.

"I'll make dinner tonight," I said, and turned to leave the room. I knew exactly what I wanted to make, it was a dish that my father had made for me when I was a child, usually when I was sick. It was a simple recipe, almost ridiculously basic, but the impact was always great, mentally and emotionally gratifying.

Before I could leave I needed to address the party situation. I needed to make sure someone could be here to look after him, in case Charlie needed anything and also, something told me he would not be as understanding as Renee when it came to underage drinking and possible drug use. But I didn't see how I could lie because everyone knows everyone's shit in Forks. I decided on exclusion as the best policy, only giving him information on a need to know basis. He needed to know I would be gone and I could tell him I would be with Alice, because that would be true. And I wasn't going to ask for his permission because, truthfully, he wasn't fathering me. He didn't deserve the right to tell me no, he hadn't earned it.

"Um, I'm going to a party with Alice Cullen tomorrow night. Is there someone that can stay with you while I'm gone?" I tried to ask confidently, like I wasn't scared shitless he would freak out upon hearing this information.

He stayed silent for a moment, rubbing his eyes with his fingers. He was trying to find the nerve to deny my proclamation but he knew as well as I did, he didn't deserve it. "Yeah, I can probably have Billy come stay with me." He sighed, defeat once more apparent in his expression.

"Okay, great. I won't be home too late." And you probably wouldn't even notice if I was.

He nodded his head in agreement, my signal to leave before he changed his mind. Once downstairs I began looking through the cabinets for the ingredients to make pastina. I didn't actually think Charlie would have these supplies due the condition the stove was in when I had arrived. It hadn't been used in months, dusty and filmed over.

I quickly found what I had been looking for, however, the plastic container of tiny star-shaped pasta with a dried basil leaf tossed in with the noodles to protect against grain festering pests, and chicken broth. That's it. I mean, yeah, you can add all kinds of shit to it like herbs and vegetables, but when I was younger this was all that you needed to make good pastina, the soupy star-noodles soothing the stomach and reminding me, once again, of all the good from my childhood.

I found a saucepan and filled it with water and added a bit of salt. Putting the pan on the stove, I turned on the gas and the burner lit in a warm flash of blue and white, sizzling away at some of the dust on the stovetop.

As the water heated I snagged my book from my bag and began reading. I was quickly entrenched in Yorkshire moors and vindictive parenting, personally reminded of the fucked up shit parents can do to their children.

It was such a betrayal. My parents had screwed me over royally. It didn't matter, the rationalization that my mother had conjured up to make her feel better about leaving my father. Or how my father had deemed it okay to forget the existence of a human being he helped to create. How am I supposed to be a functioning member of society with them as fucking role models? Both of them have failed in their basic, evolutionary purpose, survival of the fittest waving its iron talon at its sickly prey.

I wallowed in self pity until the water boiled, dissolving the chicken bullion and adding the tiny noodles, allowing them to soften. Pouring the soup into a large bowl, I carried it upstairs to Charlie, a slight trepidation building in my chest. _Here goes nothing!_

Charlie was watching some fishing challenge on ESPN, absorbed in the reels and flies, finding some sick satisfaction in the flailing creature desperately struggling for survival. I turned so I didn't have to see the screen.

"I made soup," I said, trying to sound indifferent like I hadn't been reminiscing over this fucking broth for the last twenty minutes. I set the bowl on the nightstand, torn between wanting to wait for Charlie's reaction and wanting to get the hell out of there.

Charlie stared at the soup for a moment. "You made pastina?" he questioned, accusatory in his tone. This may have been too much.

"Yeah," I replied defensively. "It's not like there were a lot of choices." Asshole!

"Huh." So we're back to the fucking grunts again. Charlie turned his attention to the television once more, leaving the soup on the nightstand untouched.

Dumbfounded and humiliated, I left the fuckhead to his childish pouting. I was at a loss. I forgot the rest of the pastina and left it on the stove as I curled up into the bed, climbing under the covers and engaging in my own childish pouting. _"Stepping stones on sinking sand…"_

…

"Turn left at the next street." Alice was sitting in the passenger seat of my truck, her legs curled beneath her. Emmett had dropped her off at my house so we could get ready and so I wouldn't have to arrive at this soirée alone. I think she was just afraid I wouldn't show up and she's absolutely correct in her assumption. There's no fucking way I'd be going to this party on my own. She was looking very grunge tonight, a flannel baby doll dress over purple leggings and, of course, those black Docs. Her hair was smoothed around her cosmetically enhanced face, channeling Cabaret Liza sans ugly black hat. I had chosen one of my new-to-me tee's, the blue blazer, and my number two jeans, because my number one jeans hadn't been washed all week. I left my hair down, my insecurities influencing all my choices this Friday evening.

I turned onto the small street and immediately saw a myriad of vehicles parked in front of a modest house. I had a shit of a time trying to parallel park this stupid truck but was able to find a spot on the crowded street.

As we walked up the slippery sidewalk, the fog forming a dense barrier of moisture in the atmosphere, Jasper trotted over to meet us. He looked rather rock and roll in his black jeans and t-shirt, a wool coat masking his slim stature. He took Alice's hand and in a very gentlemanly gesture brought her small fingers to his lips, meeting her eyes and captivating her attention. It was a most virtuous kiss yet sensuality swelled in their connection. Again I was the intruder and distanced myself from the lovebirds. Walking slightly ahead of them, I could only barely make out their conversation.

"He said he was going to come tonight. I know, I was super irritated, because that means we won't be able to hang out," Alice was murmuring in her musical voice.

"We can hang out. I'm allowed to be friends with you, Alice. Just because you're brother has some superhero complex doesn't mean you're not allowed to have fucking friends." Jasper had lit a cigarette, the earthy aroma glaring in my nostrils.

"I know. Just be careful, okay? I will not visit you in prison, but something tells me you won't be very lonely," Alice giggled, borrowing his cigarette and taking a long pull.

"Yeah, yeah. No physical contact, no adoring glances, no deep conversation. The masquerade is officially on." Jasper took the cigarette from her fingers and placed it in the corner of his mouth. He reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a small package wrapped in a paper bag. "I gotta go deliver this to Newton. I'll be around shortly. Don't get too fucked up without me, love." He spoke out of the side of his mouth, balancing the still burning cigarette between his lips.

Alice stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. He nodded casually at me and walked into the house that was now in front of us, alternative rock straining against the plexiglass. I waited for Alice to catch up and we walked through the large wooden door.

The room was throbbing with bodies. The music provided a rich, calm beat, smooth and penetrating, and the majority of the room's inhabitants were pulsating along with the bass, their heads bobbing up and down, just feeling it. It was beautiful, the unison of the motion, everyone moving as one, yet each internalizing a different reaction. I, personally, am most affected by the lyrics, so I struggled to pay attention to the verse. _"Here I am and I want to take a hit of your scent 'cause it gets so deep into my soul, Ooh I want you…"_

"Come on, we need drinkage." Alice grabbed my hand, meandering through the thick wall of swaying bodies. As we wove through the room I looked for the bronze hair and the tall, lanky frame. If I could just see his face, see the damage I had done, I would be able to relax. We found bottles and bottles of alcohol set up in the kitchen on the island in the center of the room. The sink was filled with ice, bottles of beer, ales and ciders as well as fruity malts. Weak ass shit. I needed the hard liquor if this night was going to be any kind of worthwhile.

Alice grabbed huge bottles of Jagermeister and Southern Comfort, holding them up for me to see, asking for approval. I nodded towards the Comfort, Jager just a little too thick for my stomach. She put the other bottle down and poured two tumblers of Comfort, handing one to me, clinking my glass, and downing the entire glassful. Impressive for such a little shit. I followed suit and she had my glass refilled almost the instant I had pulled it away from my lips. I downed the second glass as she grabbed the bottle of Comfort and pulled me out the back door.

And when we walked outside the vision before me truly inhibited my normal thought process, because there he was. Edward. He was sitting with Rosalie and Emmett at this picnic table under an EZ up. I couldn't see his face, the darkness of the night and shadows cast by the canopy hiding his features, but I started to freak out because I realized where Alice was leading us. _Please don't let me fuck up today._

When we reached them, Edward was still looking at the wood grain of the table, picking at the paint with his finger, so I took a moment to survey his injuries. He had an inch long gash on his cheek, the black knots weaving through the skin on his striking face. My stomach twisted at the sight of the scabbed-over lip, the bridge of his nose swollen and protruding, his lovely eye covered in purple and green flesh, distended and distorting his appearance. He looked so vulnerable, so exposed, and I had never seen anything more beautiful in all my life. I wanted to soothe his injuries, run my fingers over the planes of his cheekbones and jaw line, offering some form of comfort for the harm I had caused. I'm sure my desire was plastered all over my face and, quite honestly, I didn't even want to try to hide it. I wanted him to know how I ached over this, how wrong I had been to open my big fucking mouth.

Alice walked over to her brother and pulled him from his fiddling. "Hey, jackass," Alice said, teasing and placing the liquor on the table. "So you really came, huh?"

Edward looked up, first at his sister and then at me, the shift in his demeanor blatant as he passed from warm and friendly to green and cool. He instantly became stiff, avoiding my eyes and staring only at my sneakers.

"Hey, Alice," he muttered quietly.

Alice continued, sensing his reluctance. "Hey, so this is Bella, Charlie's daughter." Alice motioned to me. "Bella, this is my brother, Edward."

I looked right at him, willing him to just look at my face. I was starting to get a little self conscious about my shoes.

Urged by the adult beverage I had just ingested, I decided to take the lead. "Hey, I think we have Biology together or something," I responded. "Nice to finally meet you properly, Edward." I held out my hand, to touch him, shake his hand. I was going to fucking die if he pulled a Charlie and left me hanging.

Edward shifted his gaze to my outstretched hand. Like before he avoided my eyes, but contemplated taking my hand. He stared at it for a second or two, before taking my hand into his, fingers wrapping around the base of my wrist, and I swear to fucking God, I heard angels sing when he touched me. The current of electricity buzzing through my arm and into my very core gyrated and curled, sending a spark straight into my soul. _"And the loose wires were lashing out at me…"_

Finally, Edward met my eyes, our skin still in contact, my arm now tingling and flooding with warmth. He was close enough to smell and I recognized the clean, delicious sweetness, longing to drink him in. His gaze was foreign, his injury altering his stare, but the cool green beneath the swollen lid revealed his disbelief. He'd felt it too, I was sure. The thought of this made me giddy and I smiled a little, despite my best attempts to remain neutral.

And then Edward pulled his lips into a grin, one side slightly higher than the other. "Yeah, Biology. I'm so glad to see you, Bella," he responded, still holding my hand. He looked so good, his plain white t-shirt damp with moisture. Why didn't he have a coat on? He had to be freezing.

I was hoping this meeting looked casual and generic because Alice was still watching us, and a crowd of various people had started to crowd around the picnic table and under the canopy. The rain was falling quietly and softly now, a light feather of a mist, but it was enough to send the girls into a panic, their pretty painted faces and artificially articulated hair at risk of ruin by the weather.

It was at this time that Jessica fucking Stanley, the very same bitch that had copied my notes in Spanish just earlier today, fucking ruined the greatest moment I had had in, well, ever. She walked up to Edward and sat down sideways in his lap. He dropped my hand, ignoring my eyes again. I turned around, my back facing them. From this proximity I could hear her whisper but I only caught certain words, _suck, dick, come_ being the three that would surely induce vomit.

I grabbed Alice's arm and the Comfort, opening it and swigging from the bottle, and walked out the side gate pulling Alice with me. I stopped at the side of the house, the rain dewing on my untamed mane. I was starting to feel the effects of the alcohol now, but it wasn't the feeling I wanted.

"Alice, I'm going to need something stronger than alcohol," I hedged, hoping like hell she didn't look down on dopers.

Alice appraised my expression and finally asked me, "What do you want?"

"Um, pot? Or pills? It doesn't really matter," I answered. Jesus, I hope this wasn't a joke because she seemed to know where to get some shit.

"Okay, let's find Jasper." Alice took the bottle from my hand and, taking a swig, turned to find her Jasper.

We weaved through the house again, looking in the bedrooms and bathrooms first. Jasper was in the kitchen, fixing a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Alice walked up to him and whispered something in his ear. He grinned, shaking his head and winking at me. Um, I'm am idiot. How did I not see this one coming? Secretive, brown paper bags, constant meetings; Jasper is a dealer. No wonder Alice is keeping this shit under wraps.

Jasper inhaled his sandwich, him and Alice crossing the small distance to where I was standing. "So, Bella, you want to get faded?" Jasper asked, a grin playing on his lips.

Alice reached into Jasper's jacket pocket, pulling out a pipe and bag of weed. She put it into her own pocket and pulled me outside, Jasper following behind us.

"Where are we going?" I asked Alice, perplexed. Couldn't we just smoke on the porch?

"Your truck. Your dad's a cop, Bella. You can't just fucking smoke a bowl in front of all of Forks." Alice dropped my wrist now and grabbed Jasper's hand, bringing it to her lips.

"Right, never had to worry about that shit in Phoenix," I muttered. The three of us hopped into the truck, Alice sitting bitch. She packed the bowl diligently and lit the pipe with her pink lighter, drawing in a deep breath and passing me the pipe.

I did the same, holding in my breath until I was lightheaded and exhaled the smoke into the small cab of the truck which was quickly becoming thick with haze. I passed the paraphernalia back to Alice who passed it to Jasper. Within ten minutes the contents of little baggie were gone and I was finally feeling some relief. I was utterly relaxed, fucking toasted, and I couldn't remember ever feeling this calm. All thanks to Jasper.

"So, Jasper, can you get anything else?" I asked, feeling him out. I needed those fucking pills damnit.

"Naw, Bella. I don't deal with the hard shit, not worth my trouble. Why, what do you need?" Jasper looked at me through narrowed eyes.

"Um, I used to get these pills in Phoenix. I think they're for ADD or some shit. They like, really help me focus." I wouldn't bring up what they did to my appetite; they didn't need to know that detail.

"Pills, huh? I'll see what I can do." Jasper put his arm around his Alice and kissed her on the side of her forehead. "Come on, let's get back to the party. Newton's got a whole case of Stout in the fridge in the garage that nobody knows about."

We got out of the truck, still fucking soaring, and walked back to the party. Alice and I set up camp outside on the four foot brick pony wall separating the Newton's front yard from their neighbors, Jasper trying like fuck to boost us up onto the wall. Once Alice and I were perched on the wall, Jasper went to get the Guinness. I didn't have the wherewithal to realize that this probably was a horrible idea, me sitting on a fucking brick wall, totally smashed. Jasper returned with the case of beer and a bottle opener. We spent the next half hour drinking and flicking bottle tops at Newton's car.

"You have to fucking aim with your elbow, Bella." Alice was trying to teach me the fine art of flicking bottle tops. I pinched the top between my thumb and middle finger and snapped, like she had taught me. The top went flying, hitting the tire of Mike's car parked in the driveway. I giggled like crazy, just ecstatic it didn't hit me in the face this time.

"Did you see that? I fucking hit his tire and shit. I'm getting better, I swear. I'm going pro. Fuck school, I'm going to flick caps for a living." I finished off my bottle, dropping it carefully into the pile that had accumulated on the gravel below our feet.

It was almost enough to force Edward and fucking ho-bag Jessica from my brain.

But, because Karma hates my guts, as soon as I was drunk enough to forget that Edward didn't want me, there he was. Fucking furious and shit, glaring at me, at his sister, and at Jasper. And I couldn't help it, I had to just fucking laugh, because he looked so hot when he was pissed.

I nudged Alice, "Dude, look at your fucking brother. What the hell's his problem?"

Alice immediately changed her demeanor. She hopped off the wall, falling to the gravel and stumbling to get back up. She shuffled over to Edward, putting her arm on his shoulder.

"Edward, my brother, why do you have such a bad look on your face?" She pinched his cheek and he flinched, his injury irritated by the contact.

Alice was mortified, "Shit, Edward. I'm so fucking sorry. Are you okay?"

Edward pulled his face from her hand. "Alice, were you fucking smoking? You smell like weed." Edward was looking at Jasper now, staring him down.

Alice laughed, slightly pushing his shoulder. "Oh, that was fucking ages ago. We're totally smashed now, though. And Bella can hit Mike's car, so that's good for her." Alice turned around to give me a thumbs up.

I returned the signal, feeling slightly dizzy now. Sitting on the pony wall was quickly becoming the worst idea ever. I grabbed Jasper's arm to brace myself.

"Fuck, I think I'm going to fall," I said to Jasper.

"We have to get you down from here." Jasper jumped down off the wall at that point, just as a large group of kids walked out the front door.

Momentarily distracted, we watched the kids walk down the driveway. I recognized some of them, one of them Lauren I think, and one was named Tyler. Anyway, they were getting closer to the wall and I wanted to ask one of them to help me down, but I was having a hard time putting together a coherent sentence at this point. Just as I was going to open my mouth, one of the guys pushed the kid Tyler, I think trying to fuck with him or something. Tyler was out of control already, totally drunk, and maybe it was the weed or all the fucking alcohol or the hunger, but I saw Tyler colliding with me in slow motion, like an out of body experience, his shoulder knocking into me hard.

I heard someone yell my name and then I was flat on my back, my head smacking against the pavement with a deafening crack, on the other side of the wall. My back was wet, my jacket soaked through from the soggy asphalt. I was seeing fucking stars, just white flashes of brilliance, and for a brief moment I thought I saw an angel, mini quasars bursting around his face, giving him an iridescent glow, and I heard a soothing voice in my ear, a tender touch on my neck. And the next thing I knew I was being lifted from the wet ground, an intoxicating smell infiltrating my awareness. I just wanted to gobble up the owner of this scent, this delicious euphoria causing my stomach to literally ache. This was no angel, this being was pure sin. _"Like a devil wearing wings…"_

...

Okay, so only Bella this time, because that bitch is wordy! Edward will be next...be prepared to swoon!

Joni songs referenced:

_Midway_

_A Case of You_

_The Last Time I Saw Richard_

_I Think I Understand_

Oh, and one Third Eye Blind reference, because I saw them in concert in Ventura on Tuesday and it was an out of body experience. I love them, absolutely love them.

Your reviews are like calming whispers to the chaotic pounding of my brain.


	7. I Can Be Cruel Let Me Be Gentle With You

Darlings,

The other side of the coin...

Another long chappy, my dears, and hopefully I made good on my promise for swooning. n7of9 and I had a lengthy discussion about what Robward were to taste like, if we ever got the chance to lick him and we came to a conclusion! Read on dearies to find out!!

Again, I can't thank you readers enough! The reviews are so well thought out and I thank you for the conversation.

misforMarisa made the icons and banners on my live journal page! They are so beautiful and surreal, just like you bb!

n7-bestest beta ever!! Thank you for knowing my brain, it's like I have a little usb port in my head and you can just plug in when I can't articulate. That's a beautiful thing, fuckin' oath bb!

Disclaimer-It's not mine.

**CH. 7**- _"I can be cruel, but let me be gentle with you" _Joni wrote it.

**EPOV**

"Are you sure you don't want a beer, Edward?" Emmett had been trying for the last ten minutes to get me to drink a beer with him but, after the Stanley incident, as I liked to call it, there was no way I was ever drinking in public again. Biggest monumental mistake ever!

It was past ten and Bella and Alice weren't here yet. I knew Bella would be coming tonight because Emmett had dropped Alice off at Bella's house earlier this evening. Apparently they were BFF's now or some shit, and I don't even know when the fuck that happened, but it was highly irritating, like Alice had stolen the toy I wanted to play with and now I had to wait my fucking turn. I didn't want to share. Plus I forgot my fucking coat and was freezing my ass off.

"I'm so fucking bored." Rosalie was pissing me off. "These high school parties are so boring."

"You already said that," I told her.

"What?" She'd already had like four shots of vodka and a rum and diet coke, so she was having trouble understanding English.

"I said get a fucking thesaurus." Shit, how much longer was Alice going to take? What the fuck could they be doing?

"You're a dick." Rosalie went back to thinking about herself. I could tell she was sizing up every girl here, rating them and determining where she fit in the hierarchy. I'm pretty sure she positioned herself at the top of the food chain.

Emmett finished his sixth beer, sitting down and pulling Rosalie to lean against him. "Where's Alice? I thought she was coming with that Bella chick?"

Yeah, Emmett and Rosalie now knew Bella too. Shit, I had only been absent for three days. Rose had told me all about it on the way here, how Alice had read for Bella and she had freaked and ran out of the lunch room. Rose thought it was a fucking riot to see others in pain. But I was left wondering what Alice could have said to make Bella so upset. Rose seemed to think she had some kind of chemical imbalance, but Rose is a bitch and loves to see people fail.

"I guess," I replied, staring at the wood of the table, just fascinated by the swirls and patterns the grain was making. I picked slightly at the paint on the table.

"Hey, jackass." My head jerked up at the sound of a large bottle meeting the table and I found Alice standing before me. But I only offered her a fleeting look and I missed what she said after that, because Bella was standing a mere three feet from where I was sitting.

I instantly froze, wishing I had drunk that beer so that I could just be clever and not this insecure, anxious motherfucker, all nervous over some girl.

Not just some girl, Edward. _The_ girl. My internal monologue was making shit worse, enhancing the pressure of this situation.

I couldn't even look at her face. I wanted to, badly. I wanted to see her bite her lip again or stare right into my being with those fucking deep ass eyes. I just couldn't bring myself to look at her, afraid all she would see were the bruises and cuts on my still-swollen face. I stared, instead, at her shoes. Black sneakers with rubber toes peaking beneath wide-leg pants that dragged on the floor, the back of the hem frayed, wet and muddy. I fucking memorized those shoes.

"Hey Alice," was all I was able to say.

"Hey, so this is Bella, Charlie's daughter." Alice was introducing me to Bella. The absurdity of this almost made me roll my eyes because I was already well acquainted with this girl. "Bella, this is my brother, Edward." I was still looking at her shoes when she spoke. Bella's voice was confident and friendly, something different about the way she was handling herself tonight.

"Hey, I think we have biology together or something. Nice to finally meet you properly, Edward." Bella was offering me her hand.

The sound of my name rolling off her tongue sent a shiver straight through every appendage of my body, and I do mean every appendage, and the thought of touching her outstretched hand was sending sparks radiating to my fingertips. My right hand twitched involuntarily towards her and I couldn't deny what every pore of my being was yearning for any longer. I gently pulled her petite hand into mine, wrapping my fingers around the prominent bones of her wrist. My fingers began to tingle, a slow warmth spreading through my hand and up my arm, into my shoulder and down my spine and before I knew it, electricity was buzzing on my skin. I couldn't release her, the skin of her hand soft and warm, her pulse quickening beneath my fingers still holding her wrist.

I finally allowed myself to look at her, just relishing in everything majestic about this human being in front of me. Her eyes were the pools I remembered, just brimming with a multitude of emotions, darkened by the thick wavy hair framing her features. I wanted to pull the hair away from her face and I wished I had a rubber band or something to tie the tangled hair back so I could fully enjoy all the curves and indentations of her neck and jaw stretching from her hairline to her shoulders. I internally cursed her confounded coat, just burning to see the silhouette of her figure more plainly and uninterrupted by frivolous material. I noticed another band emblem peeking out from beneath her jacket, a lightning bolt surrounded by four letters on her fitted t-shirt. Fucking appropriate considering the electrical pulse surging through my body at this very moment.

If she had noticed the battle wounds on my face, she didn't gape the way everyone else had been doing tonight. Instead, she smiled, clearly as delighted at our connection as I was. This revelation gave me hope and I found my lips turning upward as well, unable to control them.

"Yeah, biology," I was able to respond now. "I'm so glad to see you, Bella." And I was, she had no idea. I had been dying to see her all week, cryptically trying to weasel information out of anyone, desperate for anything. Now I was filled with her very essence and like a drug, she had me completely hooked.

And then an unsolicited form dropped into my lap, obstructing my view. Jessica Stanley was body spamming the shit out of me. She whispered in my ear some shit about sucking my dick and I wanted to knock her on her fucking ass because I was missing out on valuable Bella time.

"Get the fuck off me! Shit, what the hell is your problem?" I shoved Jessica, trying to get her off my lap without it looking like assault. She stood up and shoved me hard in the chest, the bitter sting of rejection now transferred to my upper body. And it fucking hurt too, my side still bruised and throbbing.

But it didn't fucking matter because Bella was gone, taking Alice and a huge ass bottle of Southern Comfort with her. Maybe she would come back. It would be futile to go searching for her. Newton's house was buzzing with people now, crowds of bodies filling every space outside and in. Bella knew where to find me. 'Sit tight' seemed like a reasonable option.

Yeah, that lasted about two minutes and then I was up and searching for her. I weaved my way into the house, my height an advantage. I scanned the top of the crowd for her, afraid that I wouldn't be able to find her because she was really fucking small. I searched everywhere, bathrooms, bedrooms, closets, the garage, the pantry, ridiculous places, just trying to think of every hiding place imaginable.

I walked back outside and searched the backyard. I made my way through the sea of drunken assholes, trying not to panic. What if she went home? I would drive to her house right now, I didn't care. I needed to see her, make sure she didn't have the wrong impression. Maybe even give her the right impression.

I looked for another twenty minutes before deciding she had left and I was going to have to go to her house. As I walked out the front door to leave, I finally saw them. Bella with Alice and Jasper, sitting on the small brick wall, a fucking accumulation of beer bottles at their feet and the driveway scattered with bottle tops. They were all shit-faced and laughing their asses off. Here I had been searching for practically an hour, thinking of an apology, ways I could express what I was feeling for her, and she was fucking getting trashed with my sister and Jasper fucking Hale, street pharmacist extraordinaire. Alice better not have been smoking weed, she knows how marijuana can affect people like us, people who are already highly susceptible to schizophrenia.

I was fuming now, fucking pissed at this shitty situation. Pissed because Alice was probably high and I was going to be mean to her about it. Pissed because Jasper had gotten to spend time partying with Bella and I didn't, and now she probably had all kinds of inside jokes with him and shit, and he had probably discovered how utterly adorable she was. I couldn't compete with Jasper, he was pretty fucking cool.

Alice practically fell off the wall trying to get down. She stumbled over to me, trying to reassure me, and I'm sure I was making all kinds of accusations, but all I could focus on was Bella taking Jasper's arm, steadying herself. Jasper slid down off the wall and he was going to help Bella down. I saw his hands go for her waist and then he paused, his attention now on the onslaught of drunken ass bastards stumbling against the wall.

And before I realized what was happening, fucking Eric Yorkie had shoved Tyler Crowley and he was careening directly at Bella, an out of control vehicle certain for impact. He was going to knock her off the wall. I yelled her name, but Tyler and Eric's shouting drowned me out. I ran, trying to stop the collision, my side splitting in pain, but I was too late to stop the transfer of kinetic energy slamming into Bella and knocking her backwards off the wall. She disappeared behind the barrier, lying flat on her back on the asphalt of the neighbor's driveway, and she didn't move. I freaked out, thinking she had broken her neck or something.

I heard a calamity of commotion behind me, Alice screaming Bella's name, Tyler and Eric fucking full-on fighting, the girls screaming at them to stop. I could only focus on one thing though.

I hopped over the wall, my own injuries a distant thought now, and knelt down beside Bella, placing my face near her mouth and checking to see if she was breathing. She was, so I checked her pulse, touching her neck and applying a slight pressure to that point between the tendons in her neck.

"Bella? Can you here me? Bella, wake up." I just kept calling her name over and over, trying to get her to wake up. Finally, her eyelids started to flutter. She was still pretty out of it and it was highly probable that she had a concussion. I think I remember reading somewhere that you aren't supposed to move someone with a head injury, but it was fucking freezing out here now and her thin coat was soaked from falling in a shallow collection of rainwater.

Fuck it. I picked Bella up, carrying her to my car, with Alice and Jasper following close behind me. I had to get her to Carlisle and make sure she was okay. I had parked quite a way down the street, planning my easy escape. It was easy as hell carrying Bella, she was so light, a hundred pounds maybe, and having her this close to me was exhilarating, adrenaline masking the pain in my side. I breathed in her scent, more potent now that she'd been marinating in rain water, and tinged with liquor and weed, but mind altering nonetheless.

When we got to my car, Alice opened the unlocked front passenger door and I gently put Bella in the car and fastened her seatbelt before running to get behind the wheel. She was conscious now, although drifting in and out of awareness. Alice and Jasper got in the back seat and I started the engine, cranking the heat. I peeled out of the parking space and sped towards our home.

Alice was the first to speak. "Aren't you taking her to the hospital?"

"No, I'm taking her to Carlisle," I answered. "For a couple of reasons but mainly because she's completely fucked up, high as all shit and drunk off her ass. I don't think that would go over so well at the hospital."

"What makes you think it's going to go over well with Carlisle?" Alice asked, apparently worried for her new friend.

"I don't know for sure, but I can't think of anyone I trust more, can you? And do you really just want to drop her off at home without making sure she's okay?" I asked Alice.

Alice shook her head no from the back seat. Jasper had been abnormally quiet and I still wasn't entirely sure what he was even doing here in the first place.

Bella was stirring now, sitting up in the seat and holding the back of her head. She looked around the car, meeting my eyes shyly and looking confused. "What happened?" she asked.

"You hit your head." I smiled back. "You might have a concussion so we're taking you to see my uncle."

Bella just nodded her head in understanding. She leaned her head on the headrest, closing her eyes.

"You shouldn't sleep yet, if you have a concussion you need to stay awake," I told her. If she had any serious damage, sleep could be bad.

She sat up, panic in her eyes. I thought she was worried about the concussion so I began to explain. "You're probably fine. You might have to go to the hospital, but…"

Bella cut me off, bringing her hand to her mouth. "Pull over." This was all she managed to get out of her mouth before the rest came up. I pulled over just in time for Bella to fall out of the car and violently vomit on the side of the road. I didn't know if she was puking because of the alcohol or the concussion. Alice was passed out in the back seat, leaning casually against Jasper, so I got out of the car to see if Bella needed any help.

"Feel better?" I asked her. Bella was on her hands and knees on the side of the road. She put her hand up to stop me from coming closer.

"Don't come over here," she said, coughing. Like hell if I was going to let her hurl all solitary and shit.

"Bella, I've seen people puke before." I knelt down beside her, placing my hand on her back. She seemed to relax at my touch so I pulled her hair away from her face, twisting it into a knot at the base of her neck, my fingers involuntarily lingering on her flushed flesh.

She looked at me incredulously. "Did you just put my hair in a bun?" she asked, wiping her mouth with her t-shirt.

I shrugged, "Yeah, so what? That shit's fucking manly." I smiled at her, my insides just expanding at this opportunity to care for her.

"Yeah, it is kinda manly," Bella admitted, her smile small and meaningful. I pulled her to her feet, wrapping my arm around her waist, and she just fit so perfectly, molded into my side, like we were cut from the same cloth, the severed seam joyous in it realignment. I didn't want to let her go as I helped her into my car. She reached into her pocket, pulling out a peppermint and putting it into her mouth.

"You carry peppermints in your pockets?" I thought this was interesting.

She didn't answer at first, turning to look out the window. "Obviously," she retorted, clearly a topic she didn't want to discuss.

We drove the rest of the way in silence. I kept glancing over at Bella and sometimes she would be glancing back, our eyes quickly darting somewhere else. But sometimes she wouldn't be, and it was in these moments that I was able to truly appreciate Bella Swan and how beautiful she made this world for me, her wide eyes staring out the window, wisps of curls around her face. She had fucking just puked and I was still waxing in my adoration.

Bella was still awake when we got to my home. I helped her out of the car and she acted a bit put out I was helping her. _"I can walk you know, I'm not an invalid."_ I just smiled at her independence because I knew that, deep down, a small part of her wanted me to help her, but she rejected that indulgent part for the larger, self-empowered part that she felt pride in.

Jasper woke Alice up, helping her out of the car and walking her into the house. I guess it was kind of cool to help out some chick he hardly knew. Then again, this could all just be a ploy in the ever present quest to "get some". Like I said, you never can tell with Jasper. He waved a goodbye to me and set off walking down the road. I would have offered him a ride but I didn't want to leave Bella.

Alice and Bella took a seat on the couch in the family room, Bella laying her head against Alice's shoulder, and I went to get Carlisle.

It wasn't that late, only a little after midnight, so Carlisle was still awake and in his office. I knocked softly on the door, "Carlisle?"

He looked up from his book, "Edward? I thought you guys were going to a party."

"Yeah, we're back. Emmett's still out. Um, you know Charlie?" I asked him, a little nervous now at what his reaction would be.

"Sure, I was just over there yesterday." This news surprised me. I mean, I knew Carlisle was Charlie's doctor, I just never really made the connection with Bella until now.

"Oh, so you know Bella then." This was going to be difficult, because I didn't want to rat Bella out, but she needed medical attention, if for nothing more than to calm my own fears.

"Sure…" Carlisle was waiting for me to continue, giving me his full attention now.

"Well, we were at the party and she was sitting on this brick wall, and um, these guys started fighting and she fell and hit her head pretty bad. She was in and out of consciousness for awhile." I left out the drug and alcohol shit because Carlisle wasn't an idiot and would probably figure it out on his own.

"Did she go to the hospital?" Carlisle asked me.

"Um, no. She's kind of here." Carlisle looked at me, surprise etched all over his face, though he was desperately trying to hide it. "Can you check her out?"

"Of course. Where is she?" Carlisle got up to get his medical case.

"Downstairs in the family room, with Alice." I walked out of the room and down the stairs, anxious for Carlisle to evaluate her. Alice was asleep, but Bella was staring past the walls, deep in thought. She looked up and smiled as we came down the stairs.

"Hi there, Bella. I hear you had a bit of an accident." Carlisle walked over and sat next to Bella, forcing me to sit down on the couch next to Alice. Carlisle immediately went to work. "Do I have your consent to perform an exam?"

"Yeah, sure." Bella sat up and folded her hands in her laps. Carlisle began his routine battery of tests and questions, checking for signs of severe head trauma. Bella sat very still, smiling every so often at me as I watched Carlisle gently feel her scalp and check her pupils, ears and neck. I was slightly envious that he got to spend this much time touching her but I waited patiently for him to finish.

"Well, we can't be sure there's no skull fracture unless we do a CT scan, but I'm not very worried about that. You seem fine. You'll just need rest, but it's best if someone wakes you up every couple of hours, just to be sure there isn't a more serious brain injury." I frowned at this. I didn't want Bella to leave, to go home to her house with only her sickly father. She needed to be taken care of. My mind was reeling, a solution on the horizon.

"Bella could just stay here. I mean, nobody is available to help her at her house and we're all here. It just makes sense." I was hoping like hell Carlisle wouldn't see through this to the true motivation for my actions.

"I can do it," I looked at Bella now, "if you want." _Please say yes, please say yes_…She met my gaze and without so much as a waiver, nodded.

Carlisle hesitated before conceding. "Okay. Edward, just nudge her every couple of hours. She doesn't have to become fully conscious, just aware enough so we know she's not slipping into a coma." Jesus Carlisle, don't sugarcoat it or anything. "And you should probably stay on the couch Bella." Carlisle eyed me, sending me a very pointed message. Bella must have picked up on it too because she blushed something fierce, the flood of color to her cheeks breathtaking.

Carlisle continued, "Well, Bella, now is the time for the PSA from your doctor. Underage drinking and drug use is highly dangerous and can become addictive. Remember that it is against the law for you to consume alcohol if you are under twenty-one years of age, and marijuana is against the law no matter what age you are. And, be more careful next time. No more intoxicated wall climbing." He patted Bella on the shoulder, said goodnight to me, and disappeared up the stairs.

And now I didn't know what to say to her. I ran my fingers through my hair which was still slightly damp from the evening's light rain. I glanced over at Bella and she was looking at me.

"Thank you, Edward. For everything. Even after…" She stopped, looking at her hands. After what?

"After what?" I asked. What was she talking about?

She took a deep breath. "Even after I said those awful things in Biology," she whispered. "And then you… you know. It's entirely my fault and I feel like total shit about it. So, I'm really sorry. I didn't mean it, I just have this problem…"

"Wait. This wasn't your fault, Bella." I couldn't let her take the guilt for this. "I just, I don't know. I just need a little rush sometimes." It was the best way I could describe it without coming right out and laying it all out on the fucking table. _I was just trying to induce Schizophrenia so they would lock me away in an institution so I can't hurt you_.

Yeah, that would go over great.

Bella looked surprised. "And you get this rush by letting assholes kick the shit out of you?" She was doubtful and I was sure eventually she wouldn't be satisfied with this response, but for now she accepted it.

"Well, I still feel awful about what I had said. I'm so sorry for being such a bitch." She looked at her twisted fingers.

"You're not a bitch. Believe me, I know bitch. Have you met Rosalie?" I wanted to lighten up this conversation, get her away from her self-loathing.

Bella snorted, "Yeah, she hates me."

"Don't take it personally. She pretty much hates everything." I wanted to be closer to her, Alice interrupting our line of sight. I needed an excuse to move.

"I'm just going to get some blankets and stuff." I realized a little too late how that must have sounded and I struggled to make myself clearer without sounding like a douchebag. "For you and Alice. I don't think she's going to be moving anytime soon." Alice was practically snoring, her breathing deep and noisy.

Bella just nodded, crossing her legs beneath her and drawing her wet coat around her frame. Shit, she needed something dry to wear. I struggled not to turn this into porn in my head but I was already envisioning her in my shirt…

Fuck, I have to get out of this room. I ran up the stairs to the hall closet and grabbed a couple of thick blankets, and Alice's pillows off her bed. Then I ran up to my room, choosing a t-shirt, sweatpants and a sweatshirt for Bella. I guess I could've given her something of Alice's but I wanted her in my clothes, a tiny, tangible claim on her. And I didn't want to go snooping through Alice's drawers, I might find something that would scar me for life. I also stopped at the medicine cabinet, taking a couple of the painkillers that Carlisle had prescribed for my internal bruising and getting a bottle of Advil for Bella. She was probably going to have a headache later. Awareness of my injuries was slowly coming back to me as the adrenaline evaporated from my system.

I was hesitant to give her this offering, the dry clothes, afraid of what conclusions she might draw, but I was in now, completely in. I walked slowly down the stairs, carrying the rations, the throbbing in my side a reminder of the underlying ticking bomb I was now desperate to suppress. There would be no going back once I sat on that couch with Bella, her wrapped in the clothing that had also touched my skin, and I still wasn't entirely sure that I could be something worthy of her attention or that I wouldn't end up ruining her life. But I was willing to try. That selfish asshole in me wanted this, even if it would only be for a little while.

And then, as I approached her sitting on the couch, shivering slightly from the chill of her wet clothing, another realization dawned on me. What if I wasn't the Edward she had dreamt of that night I had heard her voice my name? In my arrogance, had I misjudged this entire situation? Here I was invested and shit and it could all be in vain, this thought a tad too fucking late, I might add.

"I brought you some dry clothes too. You fell in a puddle." I grinned, hindsight making this ordeal a little humorous.

She looked down at her fingers, picking at the frayed hem of her jeans. Shit, she thinks this is weird. This is weird. I'm weird, a big fucking weirdo, bringing her to my house, making her stay here, giving her my clothes wear.

"Yeah, thanks for that too. For not taking me to the hospital. I kind of hate hospitals and Charlie would shit if he found out about this," she said, reassuring my silent fears.

"Do you need to call him or something?" I asked.

"No, it would be pointless. He probably won't even notice I'm gone and Billy Black's there, in case he needs anything," she responded, continuing to pull at the threads.

I nodded my head in understanding and put the care package of cotton on the coffee table. I walked over to Alice, lifting her head as gently as possible and placed her pillow under her head. I grabbed one of the blankets from the table and threw it over her, hoping like hell she wouldn't wake up because I did not want to deal with sleep-deprived Alice. I thought about moving her, but then worried about how Bella would feel being alone with me, because there was no way in hell I was leaving her side tonight.

I peeked at Bella who hadn't moved from her position on the couch, and I was met with her liquid eyes, just emitting incredulity and disbelief. Her mouth was slightly open, her full bottom lip seemed to pulsate as it hung there, the protrusion so inviting. Head slightly tilted and tired eyes slightly narrowed, she was making a judgment. I didn't know what conclusion she came to, because she just continued to stare at me, her face flooded with astonishment and confusion, until I eventually looked away.

I decided to break the silence. She still hadn't accepted the provisions I had placed on the table. "Want something to drink? Are you hungry?" My questioning was swift and Bella startled at my voice.

She shook her head no, "No thanks, I don't think I can put one more thing into my system."

"You're not going to puke again, are you?" I asked her.

She smiled a little, raising her eyebrows, "Not tonight." She chuckled at her own response and this made me smile too.

"Do you want to watch T.V.?" I asked, just trying to make her comfortable.

She shrugged her shoulders, "Sure, if there's something on."

"Bella, we have like five hundred channels. There's always _something_ on." She rolled her eyes at my literal translation. I grinned again. There's just something about this girl that brings out that immature fifth grader. I constantly wanted to tease her, see her get all furious, because it was so damn cute and, honestly, I needed the attention from her.

I grabbed the remote control from the coffee table and turned on the television set, trying to find something entertaining to fill the silence. I thought about the Food Network, but didn't think anyone could really find that shit as interesting as I did. I scanned the guide, eventually finding a movie that I thought would be a good distraction.

"Romeo and Juliet?" Bella's surveying eyes hinted at amusement. Shit, now she probably thought I was some sappy, masochistic, wuss weirdo, failing in my desperation to impress her.

"This is a great movie. Baz Luhrmann does a fantastic job using color to accentuate the symbolism." She was glancing sideways at me now, her eyes sparkling from the verbal engagement and quite literally daring me to argue with her.

"I can't deny that, it is a beautiful film. The cinematography is phenomenal." I thought about arguing with her just so I could see her get all heated again, but this movie was kick ass, even if it was, technically, of the chick flick variety.

I sat down on the curved couch, choosing a seat on the section adjacent to the one Bella was occupying, and forced my eyes to the television. Reds and greens, and vintage black and white images filled the screen, occupying my sight but not my mind. I struggled for what to say next, craving a bit of attention from her again, wanting to gain some insight into that brain of hers.

Bella shifted in her position slightly, leaning forward and grabbing the sweatshirt from the coffee table. She removed her blue jacket, fulfilling my earlier wish, yet now I was bound to that television. I forced my eyes not to gaze at the girl removing clothing sitting not two feet to my right, using every ounce of self-control I could find within myself. She tossed the jacket on the table and turned slightly to the right, fucking pulling the hem of her wet t-shirt over her head, sending a flood of bodily fluids coursing straight to my dick. Holy fuck! She was wearing a very small tank top underneath and, I swear to God, she didn't have a bra on. This was fucking torture. She's torturing me, and she knows it. She had to know what this would do to me, right? My eyes were still trained on the television, but you know I was glaring from my peripherals like a motherfucker. It only lasted a second, but braless Bella in a tank was forever etched in my mind, to be very useful in further endeavors of self pleasure.

Bella quickly pulled the sweatshirt over her head, the fabric flooding around her, hiding all of the features that had been so exposed only seconds ago. She pulled the blanket from the table and leaned against the back of the couch, spreading the material around her.

"Are you tired?" I asked her. She looked exhausted, her eyes drooping from the draining events of the evening.

"I'm tired, but not really sleepy." Leaning her head against the back of the couch, she turned to look at me, her hair still knotted at the base of her neck from my handiwork. Growing up with Alice I knew all about that shit, braids, buns, twists. I had to. When my mother was nurturing my father, someone had to be there for Alice, get shit ready for school, pack lunches, braid hair. That duty had fallen on me.

Bella's enigmatic responses were driving me crazy. How was I supposed to gauge her reactions? I was repeatedly assuming the opposite of what she was actually thinking. Every time I made a judgment I was quickly refuted, left in ignorance once again.

"How's your head?" Let's see how she could puzzle me with her answer to this one.

"It's okay. I have a splitting headache though. My head is just throbbing," she answered, straightforward and to the point, exactly the opposite of what I was expecting.

"Do you want some Advil or something? You're in a doctor's house, you know. We have lots of drugs here." I smiled deviously, tempting her with double meaning.

"Do you?" she asked, interested. "Yeah, painkillers would be stellar."

"I'm on it." I pulled the bottle of pills from my pocket, and set them on the coffee table. After getting a glass of water from the kitchen, I handed her the painkillers, allowing my fingers to slightly linger on her palm during the transfer of pills. I loved touching this girl, it was pathetic the way I searched for reasons to simply contact my skin with hers.

Bella swallowed the pills and drank all the water, and I watched them travel down her throat as she tilted her head back to allow the medication easier access.

She placed the glass on the table. "So, how come you were so pissed at the party?" she asked me, playing with her fingernails.

"Which time?" I mumbled under my breath, internally debating whether I really wanted her to hear my comment or not. She wouldn't just let it go, I was sure she would ask for clarification and I wasn't sure I wanted to clarify just yet.

Her eyes darted to mine, questioning and confused, "You were pissed more than once?"

I sighed, clarification is a process, "Bella, I'm usually pissed. A more accurate question might be, 'So, how come you were so happy at the party?'"

"Were you happy? You kind of just eluded that was unlikely," she commented with raised eyebrows.

"Once." I answered truthfully, feeling again that energy spreading up my arm, a ghost of the initial electrical impulse. I was trying like hell to convey meaning in that one word, hoping that she'd just fucking get it.

She looked down now, her fingers capturing her attention once again. "Ah, yes. I bet I can guess the incident you are referring to. Did it have anything to do with Jessica Stanley's ass in your lap?"

Fucking Stanley. Another highly needed moment of clarification.

"Um, yeah, that was totally unsolicited." I began to explain before Bella interrupted me.

"Edward, it's okay. Jessica told me all about you guys." Once again, fucking Stanley. "And I get it, the whole unrequited love thing, pining for the one that got away…you always want the one who doesn't want you, right? I get it, believe me." Bella was still looking down, unwilling to meet my gaze. And I was fucking pissed having to play damage control now.

"What the hell did she tell you?" Unrequited love? Now _I_ felt like puking.

Bella looked confused, "Yeah, she dumped you after a hook-up or something…"

"Whoa, whoa. I think Stanley may be spouting shit here. I was never with Jessica in the first place to even necessitate alleged dumping. I had gotten really drunk at her party and ended up passed out in her bathroom, cuddled up with the toilet. I woke up to find her…" I didn't know how to say this, it was so fucking humiliating, and I didn't think Bella would believe it was unwarranted. "Well, I woke up with my dick in her mouth."

Bella's mouth dropped open and she actually brought her hand up to close it. This made me smile and gave me the courage to continue.

"And I was freaking out, because I was seriously too drunk to move." Bella just waited patiently for the rest of the story. "And she was really into it so I was just going to let her finish…"

Bella exhaled loudly from her throat in disapproval, a little force behind the gust.

"What?" I asked her, taking a defensive stance.

"Nothing. Please, proceed. So, did you…finish?" Bella folded her arms across her chest.

"No…um, actually, in her enthusiasm to…finish, she gagged and she puked up mudslide in my lap. True story, I can't make this shit up." I can't believe I was telling her this.

Bella let out a huge booming laugh, noise just erupting from her petite frame, a sound really too big to come from someone so small. I was shocked by the enormity of it, and I wanted to hear more, so I gave her more of the gritty details, finding a deep satisfaction in the self-mockery.

"I'm glad you can find humor in my extreme discomfort. And I do mean extreme. My pants were fucking ruined. I had to rinse them in the sink and wear them home with a huge wet spot on the front," I continued as Bella continued laughing. I was slightly worried we would wake up Alice, but then again, I slightly didn't care.

"And believe me, in Forks, a wet crotch can be fatal." I was amazed at how easy this was, discussing this with Bella. She let out another siren of laughter, snorting a little bit. She quickly clamped both hands over her mouth, trying to suppress the little influx of air getting trapped in her nose.

"Did you just snort?" I asked her. Cutest snort ever!

"Yeah! So worth it! Oh my God…that's definitely the best…blow job story…I've ever heard!" She struggled to get the words out, gasping for air and clutching her sides.

"Yeah, yeah, fucking hilarious," I replied dryly. "That's what I'm here for, all for your amusement."

Bella, finally composed, continued, "So, is that why you were pissed at the party, because of Jessica?"

"Kind of." How do I explain this to her, without having to _explain_ this to her? "I don't like it when Alice smokes. It's not really safe."

Bella snorted and rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on Edward. Pot's so not a big deal. I mean, it's only illegal because some newspaper guy wanted to keep his monopoly on the paper industry and didn't want hemp messing with his profits. Besides, my mom's smoked forever and she's kind of normal. I mean, she's a little stupid, but she can't really help that, right?"

"Well, I'm not a fan. Of any of it really," I replied truthfully. If she only knew what the drug could do to someone like me, someone like Alice. Genetically inclined to develop psychosis, marijuana, along with some other street drugs, have been found to dramatically increase that risk. And, I'll admit, during my days of self-destruction, I smoked a lot of weed. I never got into anything else, frankly because I didn't know where to get it. But Jasper could always get pot so that's what I did.

And, yeah, I didn't have symptoms yet, but the research that I found stated that those who were heavy users of cannabis at age 18 were over 600% more likely to develop psychosis over the next 15 years. So it might not happen today or even this year, but it could happen when I am married and have children and a career and shit. That's when it could happen, and then we'd all be fucked and I'd be just like him.

Bella dragged me back down to this moment and I was disgusted with myself for wasting my waning time with her thinking about this shit. Yet she continued the conversation.

"It being…?" she questioned, trailing off and expecting me to answer.

"Drugs, alcohol, any of it. Anything that chemically alters the way the body works. I don't want to feel numb. I want to feel everything for as long as I can," I replied, ready to defend my stance because someday I might not feel anything, my affect flattened by the disease.

"But you used to, right?" Bella asked me.

"Yeah, but fucking Stanley cured me of that shit," I muttered.

Bella's mind was active though, a rebuttal quick on her lips, "What about caffeine, Advil, Penicillin, prescription shit?" She was calling me out.

"I normally don't partake, but…" I began.

"But you are now, huh?" Bella's smile reveled in victory.

"Well, have _you_ ever been fucking kicked in the ribs? That fucking hurts," I spouted, her smile crumbling, eyes shooting back to her lap.

Bella's face was contorted now, distress disrupting her velvety eyes. "You were kicked in the ribs? Holy fuck, Edward, I'm so sorry…"

"Not your fault, remember?" I shrugged off her apology. It was my decision to fuck with those guys. My choice, my consequence.

"Oh, come on. Let me take some of the blame? It makes me feel useful." She was pleading and I would have let her have anything she wanted. But not this guilt. I knew too well how guilt becomes a poison, festering and gnawing at the very essence of your being.

"Nope, can't do it," I said, shaking my head. "You'll just have to find some other way to feel useful."

She rolled her pretty, brown eyes at me. "Right, easier said than done."

"Well, I'm sure Charlie finds you useful," I commented. It was empty, really, because I didn't know shit about that situation. I really had just thrown it out there, testing the waters where Charlie was concerned, hoping she would just keep talking to me.

Bella let out a dry laugh. "Shit, now that is funny."

"Proceed," I said, gesturing for her to continue.

Bella shook her head slightly. "It's complicated."

Such a bullshit response. "Well, un-complicate it then," I said, staring into her liquid eyes. In the low light of the television the brown seemed to swirl and dance, trapping my gaze in a hypnotic stupor.

Bella sighed, breaking the trance and looking down at her lap again. "I'm not getting along so well with Charlie."

I shrugged, "What, you don't like him?" Charlie seemed nice enough. Sure, he could be a little intimidating, especially when he had his badge on.

"It's not that. He's…" She paused, tenderness in her eyes, apparent in the downward pull of her pouting lips. "He doesn't like me." Her whole body seemed to deflate as if this admission made it true, defeat evident in her lack of posture.

"How could he not like you? Aside from your near death experiences and your wicked smart-ass mouth, you're completely charming." _And beautiful, and interesting, and brilliant._ I tried to give her a compliment but being out of practice, I was afraid it came off as argumentative.

"I know, right," she agreed, smiling again and shaking her pretty head.

I smiled as well because I just couldn't control the twitching of my muscular facial tissue, drawing the corners of the split into a display of pure contentment. Control was a fleeting virtue when it came to Bella Swan.

"Just give Charlie some time, he'll come around. He's pretty cool once you get to know him," I responded without thinking, my reply artificial and demeaning. And for the second time tonight, I caused pain in that face, Bella crumbling at my idiotic attempt at consolation. "Hey, sorry. I didn't mean to be so…"

"No. You're right. I don't know him. I hadn't seen him in seven years, you know. I don't know him at all." She looked right past me, through me, her eyes gazing on some unknown entity out of her reach.

Realization on the brink, I searched for another clue. "Is that why you came to Forks? To get to know him?" I pressed.

"Not really, no." My face fell in disappointment. I was sure I had pegged that one. Bella was a master at the art of surprise. She was continually confusing me with her never ending array of non-disclosing responses. It's like answering a question with another question. Fucking futile.

"Why did you come to Forks then, Bella?" I spewed in frustration.

She paused, analyzing my tone and probably that pissed off look on my face.

"Why did you come to Forks, Edward?" Point taken, Miss Swan.

"Well played. Another day then?" I didn't want to air my dirty laundry all in one night. This shit was going to take time. I mean, that's not the kind of thing you just come out and tell a girl, especially a girl you might want to see again, or often, or, like, every day.

"Perhaps. If you're lucky." Bella turned her head back to the television now, another infomercial playing in the early morning hours. She snorted at some worthless piece of exercise equipment.

"Infomercials are nature's way of saying go to fucking bed! I mean, who buys this shit anyways?" She shook her head at the absurdity of the idea, while my thoughts immediately focused on the Titan Peeler that may be making its way to my front door tomorrow.

"People, obviously, buy this stuff. And, obviously, the infomercials are effective because they're still on the air, right?" My reasoning was completely motivated by self-preservation.

"Oh my God, you're an infomercial shopper!" Bella laughed her large laugh again, falling over in her hysterics and rolling over onto her side on the couch.

"Okay, just get it out of your system now. Don't make me bring up the side of the road puking incident." I needed to remind her of my collateral.

She gasped, "You wouldn't? You can't tell anyone! Edward, promise me!" She crawled closer and reached for my leg, grabbing my thigh directly above the knee and squeezing, eliciting a very different physical response than what she was aiming for, I'm sure.

"You have to promise me. Say it. Say, I promise Bella." She was close now, her deep eyes dazzling.

"I promise, Bella," I whispered, and though she thought she was getting a different promise, I knew what I was really binding myself to. I made her a million promises in that second - some small, some large. I intended on fulfilling each one before I couldn't feel this anymore, before the void took over.

"Good." Bella said, removing her touch, but lying her head on the couch cushion almost touching my leg. She closed her eyes and within seconds she was snoring, the effects of the drugs and alcohol apparent in her peaceful slumber. I wondered if she would dream, perchance to speak my name once again.

I watched her sleep until the sun crashed through the shutters, streaming butterscotch into the dark room and bathing Bella in a glow of warmth and light, the wavelengths reflecting off the crystals of the chandelier and showering the room with rainbow slivers. I had trailed my fingers across her cheek to rouse her in the early hours of the morning, remembering the concussion. She had shifted and moved her face further into my touch, causing the slight electricity to spread through my arm and shoulder again.

It wasn't the first time I had felt that electrical pulse graze my arm, and the subtle tingle stirred a vivid memory. When I first moved here, I was helping Esme change the electrical outlet face plates. I couldn't get this one cover on, the tiny screw just wouldn't connect. So in my fifteen-year-old ignorance, I used the screwdriver, like an idiot, to pull the outlet closer to the cover. The minute I connected the screwdriver with the metal of the circuit I felt the electricity flow from the wall, the current slowly tingling up my arm. And I was unable for a moment to break the circuit, or even drop the screwdriver. I was attached, connected, fucking magnetism, the force overwhelming my basic impulse to pull away.

That is what Bella Swan is to me, that outlet, sending out her electrical pulse, and I am the idiot sticking out my screwdriver and willing to connect the circuit, even if it burns me, a magnetic force preventing me from ever pulling away.

…

_I'm going to need more eggs_, I thought to myself as I whipped the batter, combining the simple ingredients and eradicating any lumps that may have formed when I mixed in the dry ingredients. The sweet scent of vanilla hung in the air, its aroma intensified when I poured the fluid batter into the scalding pan, already doused with oil and rippling on the stove top. I picked up the pan, swirling the thin mixture to coat the bottom of the skillet. I let the batter set only an instant and then, using a spatula, flipped the crepe once, browning the opposite side and then tossing the thin, delicate circle onto a plate. I rubbed some butter into the center of the circle and folded the pastry into fourths. I quickly moved on to make the next, the tedious work ahead of me, set to repeat the process dozens of times before I was through. I had already prepared everything else, a lemon ricotta filling, lightly sugared strawberries and blueberries seeping in their own sweet juices, and garnishes of maple syrup and powdered sugar. I also prepared some eggs and bacon, in case Bella wanted that instead. I hadn't ever had a meal with her so I wasn't sure what she would like. But Lemon Ricotta Crepes are exceptional, and I haven't had a complaint yet.

It was past eight now and the house was quiet. Emmett hadn't come home until around three, sneaking in the back door and hurrying up to his room. He hadn't even noticed the slumber party going on in the family room, stumbling to his room down the hall from mine on the third floor, like a drunken ninja, his stupor severely inhibiting his stealth. Carlisle and Esme had come down for their coffee around seven, taking two cups upstairs for their weekend ritual. They always had their coffee on the balcony of their master suite on the weekends, just talking and catching up with each other, maybe reading the newspaper or a magazine, or playing cards or chess. It was a way for them to stay connected with each other, despite the crazy schedules that Carlisle worked sometimes.

Alice awoke first, squinting like hell as she walked into the sunny kitchen. Her hair was sticking up all over the place, one side completely flattened against her scalp. She had dark makeup smudged beneath her eyes and her dress was rumpled and disheveled. She looked like a homeless person.

"Wow, you look purty," I teased. She flipped me off before walking to the sink and pooling water into her cupped palms. She splashed the liquid to her face, wiping her eyes with a paper towel, black spreading on the absorbent paper, the inkblot spreading into dark sprawling patterns creating her own little intuitive insight into psychotic personality disorders.

She leaned over the sink, bringing her mouth to the faucet and drinking from the tap as I continued to pour the crepes.

"Ugh, my mouth is so dry. Did I sleep with my mouth open all night?" She stretched her body before hopping onto the countertop and taking her familiar post.

"Well you were pretty out of it, like dead to the world, snoring and shit," I flipped another crepe onto the plate. They were starting to pile up. People were going to have to get eating soon, or this shit was going to be ruined.

"So what's up with Bella?" Shit, she didn't waste any time did she? I had kind of known this would be coming and I had plenty of time to prepare my response as they slept this morning. I would give her the honest truth.

"What do you mean?" Well, she'd have to work a little bit for it, I don't just hand that shit out.

"Don't bullshit me, Edward. You were awful quick to be her prince charming last night. I didn't even realize you knew her. I didn't know, didn't see it coming. Do you know how much that pisses me off?" Alice folded her arms in front of her, confusion sneaking its way into every feature of her face.

I laughed at her expression. "Yeah, I do know, Alice. Bella's in my biology class." As if this would suffice.

"Yeah, picked up on that." She was still glaring at me expectantly. I drizzled a small amount of oil into the hot pan and when I didn't say anything she about exploded, leaning forward and slamming her hands on the counter beside her knees, eyes widening in fury. "Edward, fucking spill!"

"Okay, the truth. I like her." I poured the last of the batter into the pan, swirling the batter and watching it bubble. And it was blasphemy, _I like her_, to use these words to describe this compulsion. I mean, that's how you describe your affinity for stupid shit, like your favorite color or flavor of ice cream. But Alice would think I was insane if I told her the things I was thinking, how I needed to consume her, I yearned for her company, for her attention, and how every time she offered herself to me I wanted to greedily soak her up into my very being. It was quite disturbing, even to me, the sensations I was feeling for Isabella Swan. She was becoming my obsession and it scared the shit out of me.

Alice rolled her eyes, "You _like_ her?" Alice's expression altered as she paused, her tone inquisitive now. "You like her like how you like running or how you like cooking?"

I wasn't quite sure where she was going with this so I decided to answer as carefully as I could. I weighed the two options. Running consumed me, it was a compulsion I couldn't resist, a release of energy, and I relished in the exhaustion that came with that release. But cooking, cooking was who I was. It was the one thing I could offer others, something I did well and took pride in. Cooking flowed through my veins, brought me peace, a constant on the brink of the black hole of my existence, just shy of singularity and tethering me to reality and awareness. There was no comparison, my choice evident immediately.

"She's like cooking, Alice." I said quietly, removing the pan from the heat now, snuffing out the fire.

"Then you don't _like_ her, Edward." Alice leaned back on the counter unfolding her legs to swing in front of her. "You-"

Just as she was going to say it, and I _knew_ what she was going to fucking say, Bella walked awkwardly into the kitchen. A sight to behold, her hair falling in small curls around her face, half of it still trapped in the knot which had now slid to the top of her shoulders. It struck me as a very intimate moment to see her this soon after coming out of unconsciousness. She still wore my sweatshirt, the sleeves pushed up around her wrists, and the length covering her to her knees. And I noticed at some point she must have taken off her shoes, I couldn't remember when, because here she was standing in argyle socks of gray and pink, the diamonds cutting a pattern across the top of her pretty feet. Her eyes were heavy with sleep and as I turned to look at her I felt a little insecure with my current appearance. For one thing, I was wearing the same clothes from last night, but I had added a very hard-core black apron, because bacon grease splatters like a son of a bitch.

Bella looked at my eyes first, her gaze trailing to the apron and back to my eyes, a grin spreading across her pink lips. Just as I suspected, she was going to give me shit for this.

But she didn't have a chance because I just shrugged my shoulders and turned to begin assembling the crepes. I unfolded each circle, placing a small dollop of ricotta and spreading the cheese mixture to coat the inside of the pastry. After a spooning of berries through the center, I rolled each crepe into a cylinder of delicate flavor fusion, the airy ricotta mixed with the tart of the lemon and sweetness of the berries. I created them all like this, filling the plates, drizzling with warm maple syrup and a slight dusting of powdered sugar. Behind me Alice and Bella were having a whispered conversation that I couldn't hear, despite my obvious straining to listen. Alice noticed this and pulled Bella from the room, taking her upstairs, probably to her room.

"Get Carlisle and Esme, will you? These are almost done," I shouted after her, annoyed with her decision to leave and strip me of Bella's presence. A few moments later, Esme and Carlisle came walking down the stairs, empty coffee cups in tow.

"Wow Edward, crepes? What's the special occasion?" Esme kissed me on the cheek, taking a plate from the counter by the stove.

"Nothing special. Just we had all the stuff and I haven't really made these in a while so…" I trailed off, hoping she'd buy that poor ass excuse, especially because she most likely knew of our house guest.

"Oh, I'm not complaining." Esme carried her plate into the dining room, Carlisle grabbing a plate for himself and following her.

Alice and Bella came down the stairs then, and Bella was no longer wearing my sweatshirt or my bun, but instead her hair was smoothed back into a pony tail and she had on a blue blouse. The yellow and red daisies chained in embroidery around the neckline forced my eyes to the span of skin stretched tight across her clavicles and sternum, notably exposing her small bones. She was really fucking skinny, making me even more eager to hand her a plate.

I held out two plates for each of them and they took the offering and walked silently into the dining area. I removed the apron, hesitating a moment to take a couple of deep breaths, and, grabbing my own plate, went to sit with my family.

"Are we waiting for Emmett?" I asked as I entered the room. I noticed that Bella had taken a place by Alice and I opted to sit across from Bella, so I could watch her enjoy the breakfast I made for her.

"I don't think Emmett is going to be up any time soon. He was out pretty late last night." So Carlisle had noticed the drunken ninja noisily climbing the stairs last night.

"No complaints from me. A day I don't have to watch Emmett eat is a glorious day indeed," I said as I watched Bella taste the crepes. She seemed hesitant, smelling the cheese first before taking a small nibble from the bite speared on the end of her fork. She looked up then, and seeing that I was watching, took the whole forkful into her mouth, chewing slowly. I was perplexed and couldn't stop myself from watching, because she actually looked pained accepting the food into her body, swallowing with difficulty and taking a large drink of the water from the pitcher I had set on the table earlier this morning. She met my eyes as she brought the cup from her mouth, a tight-lipped smile. She didn't like it.

"I made eggs, if you'd rather have that. And bacon," I said quietly, disappointment and humiliation coursing through me and tainting my casual tone.

"No!" She shook her head. "This is amazing. I'm just not really a breakfast person, takes me some time to get going in the morning, you know?" She looked away as she was speaking, fiddling with her fork. I went back to my meal, but my appetite was vacant, the crepes mocking my attempt to impress this girl.

"When you're finished, Bella, I can drive you home. I'm sure Charlie wants to make sure you're okay. You did inform him of what happened, didn't you?" Carlisle asked, but before Bella could answer, I interrupted.

"I can do it. I'll take her home." I knew she hadn't called Charlie and that she probably didn't want to explain it to Carlisle, and, of course, I wanted some more time with her. "Can I take you home?" I asked her, forcing her to make a choice.

"Okay," she said. She grinned again, genuine, though this time with more gusto, and cut another small piece of crepe with her fork. She ate without hesitation this time, continuing until her plate was nothing but a puddle of syrup and sugar, not participating in the conversation Carlisle, Esme and Alice were engaging in about some political scandal, just fucking enjoying the shit out of my creation. And with the resurgence of my appetite, I followed suit, my hope and pride swelling with confidence.

When Bella finished she excused herself to the restroom and I began to clean up the plates. Alice helped me take the plates from the table to the sink, Esme shooing us off as she began rinsing to load the dishwasher. Bella had been gone a while and I was hoping the cheese hadn't made her sick or something, especially considering the fact that the last thing she had had in her system was a shit load of Southern Comfort and Stout.

I looked at Alice, "Maybe you should go check on Bella," I said. She nodded and walked through the living room to the guest bathroom adjacent to the downstairs guest bedroom. I decided I should probably clean up a bit if I was going to be in my small car alone with Bella. I walked slowly up the stairs, the twinge in my side lessened by the pain medication I had taken this morning, opting for the Advil instead of the Vicodin I had taken last night. My little attempt at super-heroism had caused a strain to my rib injury, the pain worsening overnight.

When I got upstairs I washed my face in the sink of my bathroom, brushing my teeth thoroughly, flossing the strawberry seeds that lingered from breakfast. I changed my clothes, putting on deodorant again just to be sure I didn't smell like crepes and bacon and shit and, running my fingers through my hair, I walked downstairs to wait for Bella.

She was already waiting for me in the front sitting room, seated on the tapestry chaise. She had her belongings in her arms, ready to leave. And she just looked drained. Her eyes red and lifeless, staring at some minute detail in the carpet. She didn't look up as I walked into the room, just continued to stare at nothingness, a thick haze clouded over her normally deep eyes. What was going on with this girl?

"Are you ready to go?" I asked her. She startled out of her coma-like state, shaking her head quickly and, rising from the chaise, followed me out the front door to my car.

I opened the passenger side door for her and she lowered herself into the car without a glance in my direction, just a small "Thank you" as she took her seat. I softly closed the door, frustrated with the wide array of Bellas I'd seen this weekend. I mean, what the fuck? I thought I was the one with multiple personalities.

With a deep breath, I climbed behind the wheel of the Volvo, placing the key in the ignition and starting the engine. The gentle hum of the vehicle offered a decent distraction from her silence, the radio muted from last night's confusion.

As I drove along the highway, Bella's fog seemed to lift slightly. After a few moments she turned towards me to speak, I think, but she was unsure as to how to start. Then she found her voice.

"Thank you for breakfast, Edward." Her voice was quiet and small, a sharp contrast to the loud booming laughter of last night or, rather, early this morning.

"It's of a hobby of mine, cooking," I responded. "It's just something I kind of like to do."

She nodded in agreement, looking at her hands. We drove in silence a while longer, the car rapidly approaching her street. My time was almost up and I glanced sideways at her, trying to breathe, my eyes traveling the lines of her neck and shoulders, the bluish veins protruding and throbbing. Her lack of attention was festering in me now, her inattentiveness causing actual pain within my chest, a swell of panic building and causing oxygen to trap in my lungs. I had to do something, anything. I demanded her concentration now, craved it, and I felt I would surely stop breathing, at the very least, without it. Control slipped from my grasp.

"Bella!" My voice was all wrong, harsh and deep, the frantic gasping hardly disguisable. I didn't know how to stop this, my responses seemed to happen on their own now, my cognition bleeding away, making way for pure instinct and desire. What the fuck was I doing?

"What?" Bella's brow was hovering over her eyes, confusion and questioning overflowing in her brown pupils. She reached out her hand and gently touched my forearm, the energy burning into my skin, sending a wave pulsating through my body, cleansing the panic and pulling it back as the tide receded. My chest eased, letting the air escape from my lungs, a gush exhaling into the small space. My awareness returning, I realized I was shaking, my fingers barely able to control the vehicle. I pulled to the side of the road, stopping the car and bringing my hands to my face. A warm liquid drained onto my fingertips, tears I hadn't acknowledge.

"Edward? What's wrong? Hey, look at me. Look at me!" Bella's voice was clear and concise but I couldn't face her yet. Her fingers on my skin tightened, her seize was firm now. I didn't know what to tell her, because I didn't know what was wrong. Man, this is fucking me up.

I tested my voice and turned to face her, a reunion of green and brown as I spilled my gaze into hers. "Bella?" I whispered, my voice resigned, relief submerging the terror. "I'm just having a hard time…staying away from you." I breathed easy now, the gentle rise and fall meditative and soothing.

"No one told you to stay away from me, Edward." She loosened her grip on my arm, securing my gaze, and slid her fingers down to my wrist and around my hand to fuse her hand into mine. "See? You don't _have_ to stay away."

With her hand in mine, fingers tangled and palm to palm, she continued. "Thank you Edward. For everything, for last night, for this morning, for this…right now." Her voice wavered in gratitude and she turned slightly to face me, static hovering in the space between us. She was leaning toward me now, the tip of her delicate nose millimeters from my jaw. I wanted this, wanted to tilt my head just so my lips would meet that skin, envelope her, draw her in. I felt her exhale a warm breath onto the skin of my neck, her lips parting in desire. I gasped and turned slightly, so that her nose was now against my skin.

But the monster within me wasn't easily forgotten. The reaction experienced just moments ago still seared in the back of my mind, and although yearning charged through my veins and spread over every inch of my skin, the vision of Bella holding my hand as I wept conjured up images of Chicago, of a different time and circumstance, but familiar all the same.

"We'd better get you home now," I said quietly. I pulled the car back onto the road as she slumped back into the seat, disentangling her hand from mine and folding her arms across her chest. She crossed her legs in the seat, all folded in on herself, and stared out the passenger window.

A few moments later I was pulling the car into the driveway of her house. She opened the car door and paused before getting out.

And she was going to fucking lay into me. I could see it coming. Bella turned to me, conviction and determination obvious in her blazing eyes, her lips pursed and ready to just let it fly. "I don't know what kind of fucked up mind games you people play here, but you can't just do that to somebody. You can't fucking "save" me," and yes, she actually used air quotes, "and then talk to me all night and cook that phenomenal breakfast and then fucking hold my hand and almost kiss me and then... You just can't, it's not decent. It's shit, Edward! This whole thing, it's shit!"

She left the car then, slamming the door hard enough to make the whole vehicle shake and causing me to flinch at the force. The minute she left my presence, with the confining walls of the car almost suffocating and her scent still thick in the vehicle, the panic began to build. She was storming up her walkway, a tiny ball of fury, rifling through her bag looking for a house key. I couldn't let her go.

And again my body moved of its own free will, adrenaline pumping in my head and heart, just rushing through my veins, and I frantically moved my feet to reach her before she found those keys. She was on the porch now, still searching her bag, her back to me. She tried the door once and thankfully it was locked.

I was close behind her then. "Bella, you forgot one thing," and when she turned to face me I pulled her face to mine and crashed into her, our lips meeting as the momentum of my rush to stop her forced my body into her. We melded together, my hand moving down her spine, feeling every vertebrate down to the small of her back, clutching the gauzy material and using it to pull her closer. She pressed her body against mine, her hand sliding up my neck and into my hair, weaving her fingers through the curls and slightly twisting the tendrils, the partner clutching my shirt, twisting the fabric and straining the material across my chest. Her tongue slid out to meet my bottom lip, licking the wound, and I instinctively flinched away, drawing back and breathing erratically. Her eyes, sensual and coveting, bore into mine and I slowly drew her mouth back to me, licking her lip now, as she parted her mouth and welcomed my tongue with her own. We kissed slow this time, the panic gone and the residing lust and heat just fucking radiating from us. And the monster was gone, silenced and content.

She pulled away from the kiss, leaving me leaning into her and I rested my forehead against hers. She looked up at me quizzically and I was equally as perplexed by her facial expression. I had to ask, "What?"

"Exactly. What did I forget?" She asked, completely serious.

"This!" I pointed, my finger vacillating back and forth between us. "And this." I placed a small, delicate kiss directly on her full mouth, lingering for a moment, and deciding to kiss her a few more times this way, slow and gentle.

And it was in this moment that we were interrupted by the strain of the opening of an old, weathered front door. Charlie, massive and thunderous, even in his weakened state, was glowering in the door frame.

"Get in the goddamn house, Bella."

A/N

Do you think Charlie's pissed much??

Title is from the song _Gallery _by Joni Mitchell

Yeah, so n7 and I decided that Robward tastes like Lemon Ricotta Crepes with fresh blueberries and strawberries, drizzled with maple syrup and sprinkled with powdered sugar...you want to lick him, don't you??

*body spamming: unwanted physical contact

Was there swooning??? Because I promised swooning and I have to make good on my promises!! Reviews make me swoon!


	8. Like the Song of a Warm, Warm Body

**Darlings**,

Some roof top loving for you…did you really think Edward would serve lemon ricotta crepes without some lemony goodness??

The readers of this story are special, special people. Thank you deary's for lovely reviews and for your dedication to this sometimes difficult subject matter.

**amers**, thanks for sending me inspiration for Charlie and your continuing support in all things psychological!

**ilsuocantante**, another rec? wowzers!! You are something else, my dear! Thanks bb!

Beta babe **n7of9**-sweets, thank you for letting me use your brain when I have brain fail and for your unparalleled dedication to this story. I heart you big time! And I heart the bulge…thanks for that too.

And I have to thank my husband for all information Astronomy related. He's a wealth of useful information...

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**CH. 8 **_**"Like the Song of a Warm, Warm Body"**_

**BPOV**

An onslaught of olfactory enticement pulled me from my slumber and I awoke in a sensory stupor. I was very warm, the sun beaming down on my face, making a rare appearance considering the previous night's cool rainfall. Before I even opened my eyes I inhaled the rich aromas in the air. The smell of laundry detergent tinted by summery honey, the warmth from the sunlight intensifying the fragrance and causing my head to swim with recollection. I brought the neckline of the thick sweatshirt to my face, snuggling the fabric and inhaling the aroma deep into my lungs.

Vanilla sifted through the air, the engaging scent forcing a rumble from my stomach and a pang of hunger settled on the brink of awareness. I relished in the discomfort, allowing the sense of victory to rush over me, bringing with it the power and authority of control. The faint smell of maple bacon exaggerated the hunger and the growling of the traitorous organ reminded me of the need to sate for survival. I tried to open my eyes, forcing the lids to rise in order to gain awareness, while the events of the previous night hovered between dream and reality.

_Jesus Christ! That sun is fricking bright._ I shifted onto my side and was hit with a wave of vertigo, dizziness causing my hands to clutch my head, the pulsing of my temples creating a rhythm of remorse as I sat up. I blinked and rubbed my swollen eyes, still heavy with exhaustion, and looked around, intent on gaining a better bearing on my surroundings.

I found myself on a large semicircle sofa, the plush and amiable textile a deep brown. My blue coat and t-shirt lay folded on the ornate circular coffee table, amongst other various items: a drinking glass, a bottle of Advil, a pile of dark cotton material. The compilation before me incited a wide smile to spread across my face and I allowed myself to bask in the reality.

Holy fuck! I had spent the night on Edward's couch. Despite the wide assortment of psychoactive enhancements I had ingested last night and the fact that I smacked my skull on the concrete, I remembered every little detail of it. I remembered waking up in his car just in time to be utterly mortified as the contents of my evening of debauchery spilled onto the side of the road. He had knotted my hair back and in recalling that moment I touched the messy bun, now sagging on my shoulder affectionately. Yeah, that was probably the most adorable thing anyone had ever done for me, an unexpectedly tender gesture from the same boy who had willfully sought out a physical altercation earlier this week. There was more to Edward than meets the eye, so much more that I just had to discover, and I was definitely invested now. I wanted to know him, needed to know every detail of his soul, to be an expert in the inner workings of his mind and heart.

I remembered our conversation from last night. It was probably the most comfortable I had ever felt in talking to someone, just being myself. There wasn't any game, no lies. He was engaging and honest, feeding me tiny morsels of information that I gobbled up greedily, just dying to fill myself with his very essence. The ebb and flow of the conversation was gentle and lulling, each gesture brimming with care and concern. The way Edward cared for his sister, getting her a blanket and pillow and making sure she was tended to, abruptly awoke in me a sentiment of admiration for this human being. That he could be so furious with her one moment and in the next push his own needs aside to take on the responsibility of caretaker sent me reeling through a crest of emotions: envy, awe, desire, need, respect, wonder. All of them crashed over my being, engulfing my awareness and absorbing my attention.

Edward may be the most magnificent creature I have ever come into contact with. He made me want to write fucking poetry, and I can't write for shit. He made me want to bare my soul, taking comfort in the shelter he would provide. I was drawn to this nurturing side of his being, the caretaker that I had never known, that _I_ had always been. And for the first time in my life, I allowed someone to take care of _me_. I accepted his comfort while I puked, while I was at my weakest and most pathetic, and his help back to the car, cradled against his sculpted form and just taking in gulps and gulps of his rich scent. I accepted Dr. Cullen checking out my head, because I really do hate hospitals, and I accepted his sweatshirt because I couldn't wait to have it draped around me. I accepted his painkillers, his engaging conversation, his compliment when he said I was charming, his half-assed yet sweet attempt at explaining Charlie, his promise to never tell anyone about the alcohol induced vomit, and I allowed myself to find hope in these interactions.

And now, as I waded through the heady smells of breakfast and the hurried conversation coming from the kitchen, I knew I would not be able to walk away from this unaltered. Something big was happening here and I allowed my need for Edward to consume my mind and heart and soul, rewriting the aloof wiring I was fond of and obscuring my ever present logic. I knew there was a reason I was supposed to stay away from feelings like these but I just couldn't remember what it was. To be honest, I really didn't want to remember. I just wanted to be where he was, always, dancing beside him indefinitely.

I stretched my back, the awkward curve of the couch had caused an uncomfortable sleeping position that I was unable to shift from during the night due to the influx of inebriation. I had slept hard, comatose to the world around me, and a slow realization began to burden my new and enlightened mood. Holy shit, I hope I hadn't been dreaming, and I really hope I hadn't been talking. I know I talk in my sleep. Renee always loved to tell the story of how I had freaked out every boyfriend she'd ever let stay the night, including Phil, shouting from my room and carrying on conversations in complete unconsciousness. She learned to shut my door when she liked the guy she was fucking so my antics wouldn't send him packing. I only hoped that as I couldn't remember any dreams I hadn't had any, and therefore hadn't professed my undying love for Edward while completely unaware, or something equally embarrassing.

I stood up slowly, tripping over my shoes which I had hastily kicked off while Edward had been gathering blankets and stuff last night. I thought about putting them back on, the informality of my socks a confusing level of intimacy. What was appropriate here? I mean, I distinctly remember removing my wet shirt while Edward sat not two feet from me, and now I was worried about socks? It wasn't such a big deal, I don't wear a bra like normally developed girls do. There's no need, a camisole bra top gives plenty of lift and coverage for my nonexistent chest. But still, the intimacy of the moment may have been inappropriate, just like me waking up in his house wearing his sweatshirt, with evidence of his fingers in my hair, walking around in my socks.

_Fuck, Bella, you're being an idiot!_ Who wastes their time thinking about this shit?

I sighed and tried to walk with confidence into the room emanating with activity. I followed the sounds of quiet voices, passing a room adorned with a beautifully set table, pitchers and plates and fresh flowers adding an ambiance of peace and relaxation.

I could hear two voices, both harmonious and musical, the wind chime tones mirroring each other in tenor and cadence. Edward and Alice were having a hushed discussion. I knew it was totally wrong of me, but I wanted to know what they were talking about, so I lingered in the hall and listened to the cryptic conversation.

Alice was speaking when I had walked up, "You _like_ her?" Her tone was sarcastic, biting almost. She paused a moment and then asked, "You like her like how you like running or how you like cooking?"

What were they talking about? I walked closer to the room so I could hear the response.

"She's like cooking, Alice." What the hell did that mean? And I wasn't entirely sure who _she_ was yet.

I didn't know if I really wanted to find out. I walked in just in time to hear Alice say "Then you don't like her, Edward. You…"

Alice stopped abruptly when I walked into the room. Edward's eyes flashed over to me as I took in the portrait of gloriousness before me. I burned that image into my brain. He was staring into my eyes now, his bronze waves a complete disarray and, even though I wanted to stay and drown in his sticky green collection plates, my eyes traveled the length of his body. He was still wearing the white t-shirt and jeans from last night, his feet bare, and I noticed his abnormally attractive toes sticking out from beneath the hem. This little bit of skin had me reacting all aflutter and I was almost embarrassed by what just the sight of this boy's naked feet did to me.

And then there was the context in which this beautiful being was standing before me. Edward was wearing a black apron, the strap looping around his neck and the sides tying around his waist. Goddamn lucky apron! He was waiting for my reaction and I just had to grin at his fucking sexy as hell domestic nonchalance. What kind of guy puts my hair in a bun and then cooks breakfast in an apron? A fucking apron! I must have had the _I want to fuck your brother_expression plastered all over my telling face because Alice quickly hopped down from the countertop and rushed over to me.

"Why didn't you tell me you knew my brother?" she whispered into my ear, her face very close to mine.

"I wasn't quite sure he was actually your brother," I responded, slightly ashamed of my dishonesty. It wasn't quite a lie but it wasn't quite the truth either.

"Come on." Alice pulled my arm, dragging me away from Mr. Fuckhot Apron, culinary God. I glanced back over my shoulder as Alice forced me upstairs, reveling in the swiftness and care he put into the assembly of the meal. _"Come on up to my kitchen, I'll show you my best recipes."_

He turned then and yelled over his shoulder for Alice to get their uncle and aunt for breakfast.

"And stop eye fucking him, it's grossing me out," Alice said, smiling over her shoulder at me. My mouth dropped open in shock, mortified at my transparency.

"I was not eye fucking him…" I muttered indignantly as she chuckled under her breath.

She walked down the hallway to a wide set of open double doors, knocked, and walked in. I stayed in the hall, looking at the pictures hanging on the walls. Most of them were beautiful works of art, some recognizable like _The Lady of Shalot_ and _Water Lilies_, and some were obscure pieces by unknown and underappreciated artists, but the one that caught my eye was a photograph. I immediately recognized Dr. Cullen as a young man, probably in his twenties. He was standing with another recognizable face, arms around shoulders. I had never seen this man before, but I knew him, the shocking bronze hair and green eyes vivid in the muted spectrum of the aged photo, his face bare, a lack of conviction and empty of emotion or life. He looked like a shell of a human, flat in the photograph, sharply contrasted by Dr. Cullen's dimensional features.

Alice must have entered her aunt and uncle's room because when she reemerged Dr. Cullen and who I could only assume was his wife were behind her. The woman was soft and curvy, her dark hair hanging in large curls at her shoulders. She looked carefree and easy and the tenderness just poured from her, affection and care in every movement of her body. They smiled warmly at me and I couldn't help but return the gesture.

"Good morning, Bella. How are you feeling today?" Dr. Cullen walked over and looked into my eyes, checking my pupils I assumed, trying to assess my condition.

"I feel fine. Just a little headache but I took some Advil so I'll be okay," I responded, trying to pry the attention away from my injury. "Thank you so much, by the way." I was hoping like hell he wouldn't tell Charlie about the weed and shit. I could probably get away with telling my dad I just spent the night with Alice, but he might shoot me if I mentioned drugs. This, I knew, was a festering wound left courtesy of Renee and her ever spanning affiliation with Mary Jane. I knew this much because Renee has a big mouth.

"Any time, Bella." Carlisle motioned to the dark haired woman. "This is my wife, Esme." Esme moved to embrace me, squeezing me tightly, a true hug, not one of those weak-assed artificial pats on the back. Instantly I liked this about her, not afraid to show her feelings, because for someone like me who lives in a constant cocoon of hidden emotion, this was very admirable.

"It's so nice to meet you Bella," Esme said, taking my hand and squeezing it in emphasis before dropping it. "Hurry down for breakfast, Edward made crepes and they are his specialty."

"Thank you. It's nice to meet you too, Mrs. Cullen," I responded.

"Ugh, don't call me that. It makes me sound like an old lady. Call me Esme, please." She patted my shoulder and turned to walk down the stairs, Carlisle following her.

Alice was already in her room pulling various items from her drawers. She handed me one of her gauzy shirts, a rich blue embroidered with little red and yellow flowers scattered around the neckline. Reluctant to remove the sanctuary of sweatshirt but not wanting to seem psychotically attached to a piece of clothing, I shed the sweatshirt, handed it to Alice and replaced it with the more feminine blouse. Alice handed me a brush and I struggled to unknot the bun still holding my hair from my face, hesitant to disintegrate the reminder of Edward's hands in my hair. I was still struggling with the snarl of tangles when I looked up to find Alice eyeballing me cautiously.

"What?" I asked, even though I knew what she was thinking. It had been the foremost thought swimming around in my brain since that boy picked me up out of that puddle yesterday.

"Do you have a thing for my brother?" she asked, squinting her emerald feathery eyes at me. She tilted her head to the side, awaiting my response.

"A _thing_? Define _thing_," I countered, mirroring her facial expression. I was going to make her spell this out, partly because I wanted clarification as well. What did this look like to her?

"Okay, here's the deal, Bella. My brother doesn't really like…people. It's not in his…character to just carry some random girl home and then spend the whole night taking care of her and then make her fucking crepes. I mean, do you know how long it takes to make crepes? It's a total pain in the ass. And he did all that shit. For you. It seems he may have a thing." She looked down now, his sweatshirt in her hands. "So, what I want to know is…do you?"

"Did he tell you to ask me this?" I asked her, questioning her curiosity.

"Shit no. If he knew I was even talking to you about him he'd freak." Alice took the brush from my hand and yanked it through my messy locks, smoothing the hair into a tight ponytail.

"Well?" she asked again, her hands on her hips.

"Well…yeah…I may be in possession of said _thing_ for your brother." I smiled at this admission like a fucking giddy-ass fifth grader who had a crush on a silly boy.

"I cannot believe I didn't see this coming." Alice shook her head in shame, disappointment thick in her dainty face. She sighed and eyed me again. I recognized that quizzical look and almost laughed because I knew a question was on the horizon.

"Bella, are you really a vegetarian?"

My smile stuttered slightly because this was not the fucking question I was expecting. Shit, I didn't know what to say to her. Yeah, I don't eat meat, but this was not what she was asking. And she _knew_ that this was not what she was asking.

Maybe I could use the whole _vegetarian_ label as a metaphor of sorts, a code word for what I am. Maybe if I used the right amount of inflection or tone Alice would just get it and spare me the embarrassment and discomfort of having to come clean.

"Yeah, I'm a _vegetarian_. I stay away from food, that is, meat. I just can't eat, it." I was trying to make her guess, using pauses to accentuate the meaning behind the words.

Alice was quiet for a long time and I honestly thought she was going to call me on this. But she just sat there, her sad eyes questioning and curious.

I sighed, frustrated with myself that I couldn't just be fucking honest with her. "Come on, breakfast is waiting," I said, pulling her from her conclusions.

Edward was waiting with two large plates filled with crepes, syrup and powdered sugar coating the paper thin fruit-filled cakes. He handed us each a plate, his eyes fixed on the space of skin now exposed by Alice's blouse, and I ached for that sweatshirt or one of my t-shirts to cover up the sallow skin, taught over my exposed skeletal frame. Fuck, I must look disgusting.

I followed Alice into the dining room and settled into a chair next to her, glancing down at my plate. Shit, this is a lot of food. I had gotten pretty good at disguising my inability to eat, but there was nowhere to hide now. Panic swelled in my gut, literally causing physical torture as the realization became painfully obvious. I was going to have to fucking eat. And then I was going to have to puke it up.

Edward entered the room carrying his own plate and missing his black apron. He took a seat across from me as I cut away a small piece of the outside of one of the crepes. The red juice of the berry mixture swirled in the syrup causing sugary patterns to form on my plate. I brought the bite to my lips, slightly smelling the lemony mixture of cheese and fruit. It was a unique aroma, the light cheese and citrus with sweet sugar glazing unlike anything I'd ever experienced. I lightly nibbled a small piece of the bite on my fork, looking up to find Edward staring meticulously at my eating habits. His face was strained, fatigue and worry creasing his eyes and forehead.

Edward's concern sent another gush of terror coursing through my veins, but for a very different reason this time. Alice's words rang in my mind as I stared into Edward's jaded eyes, _"I mean, do you know how long it takes to make crepes? It's a total pain in the ass. And he did all that shit. For you. It seems he may have a thing."_

Edward had done all this for me. It was difficult to fathom, I wasn't really willing to accept that someone would put such care and time into nourishing me. I mean, I was a total fuck up, a self destructive fool who didn't deserve this offering of endearment. If I didn't eat he was going to think I didn't want it and, in turn, didn't want him.

I couldn't destroy him like that. I quickly placed the forkful into my mouth and was hit with a glorious array of flavors. Holy Christ, the savory tastes swirling around my tongue now overwhelmed my senses, causing the ever present nausea to seep back into my peripherals. I slowed my chewing and took a large drink of water from my glass, allowing the cool liquid to flush the berry and vanilla essence from my palette. I looked up again, those green eyes draining, and gave Edward a smile.

"I made eggs if you'd rather have that. And bacon," he said, his voice quiet and disillusioned. I panicked at the harm I had caused evident in his voice.

"No!" I blurted out, shaking my head and feeling spastic. I tried to calm my voice. "This is amazing. I'm just not really a breakfast person, takes me some time to get going in the morning, you know?" Excuse number one hundred and seventeen; just not an _insert meal that I'm trying to avoid here_ person.

Dr. Cullen spoke, bringing my awareness back to the table, "When you're finished, Bella, I can drive you home. I'm sure Charlie wants to make sure you're okay. You did inform him of what happened, didn't you?"

Shit, I was going to have to lie again. Just as I was about to speak, Edward rescued me.

"I can do it. I'll take her home," he said, and I was grateful for the diversion. I was pretty much living on an eternal plane of gratefulness where Edward was concerned.

And then he asked me for permission. "Can I take you home?" It was such a simple question, nothing really, yet the power of his offering of choice, asking me instead of declaring as he had done with Dr. Cullen, displayed a vulnerability and insecurity that just made me want to melt into his lap, comforting him and running my fingers through his ruffled hair.

"Okay," I said, grinning this time and taking a large bite of this meal. He was offering a bit of himself with this plate and I owed him this much at least. The taste again was overwhelming but this time I relished in it, pushing aside the weakness bumbling in my belly and just proving to Edward that I appreciated this, wanted this, and in doing so proving to Edward that I wanted him. I didn't stop until the plate was empty, the gnawing hunger from this morning grinning stupidly from indulgence.

I sat there a moment, my guilt beginning to spread and I was suppressing it, cramming that feeling back down, but it was no use, my body's automatic responses rejected any form of care and nourishment that I offered it. I felt the expanding of my abdomen, the crepes taking up far more space than I thought was possible in my small stomach. I had to get out of this room. I excused myself to the restroom and walked swiftly through the door of the guest bathroom, locking it behind me. I ran the sink, causing the sound of rushing water to mask the noisy vomiting that was sure to occur now. I leaned over the sink and hesitated.

How can I do this? Edward made that breakfast for me, like, especially for me. Now I was going to purge this offering of concern and adoration, willingly throw it away. Tears stung my eyes as I realized that I could never be worthy enough for Edward and everything he embodied. He deserved a good person, someone who would be able to bask in his reverence and accept his love willingly. I could never do that. I am a toxin, a poison, a vile liquid of destruction and remorse, the vicious cycle making it impossible for me to ever find some peace in this world, because the greatest manifestation of peace I had ever known was now probably doing dishes or cleaning the kitchen or some shit, his ever reaching role of caretaker fulfilled in his every decision, and I couldn't even fight back the convulsion to purge for him. _"I'm selfish and I'm sad."_

With this admission the guilt struggled back, rumbling to the surface, scolding me for accepting the sustenance when I knew I didn't deserve it. I sobbed harder now, tears streaming down my face because I knew what I needed to do, and it was the biggest blunder, allowing that perfect meal to be flushed down the toilet, a waste, sacrilege.

I curled over the white bowl and shoved my fingers into my mouth, feeling the familiar gag cause an automatic response in my bowels, but nothing came up. I tried again, spitting saliva that was now collecting in my mouth. Still nothing, hysteria present at the thought of the heavy food sitting like a rock in my stomach. It had to come up. Once again, I initiated the gag reflex and this time the fruit and cheese mixture came rushing forth, spilling into the toilet and splashing vomit toilet water on my face. I spat again, pathetic and disgusted with myself and just fucking sobbing all over the place. Struggling to get it together, I pulled myself from the floor and used the hand towel to wipe my face. I rinsed my mouth with water from the tap and attempted to straighten out my appearance before I walked out that door.

When I decided I looked halfway presentable, I pulled a peppermint from my pocket and popped it into my mouth. I opened the bathroom door to find a pair of large-lashed green eyes staring at me accusingly. Alice.

She spoke, "What are doing, Bella?"

My initial response was denial, "What do you mean, I had to pee."

She sighed, "I know what you are." Like I was a fucking alien or something.

"Oh really, what am I then, Alice?" I asked. "Say it, just fucking say it." I wanted to hear it voiced, confirmed. Bulimic, Anorexic, idiot, dumbshit, screwed. So many things that she could say, how would she pick just one? I waited for her to make her assumption.

"You're sick, Bella." Alice's sad voice melted my sardonic exterior. "You're impossibly skinny and I've only known you a week and I've seen you puke at least four times now." She grabbed my hand. "Carlisle can help you. It would be totally confidential and secret. We don't even have to tell your dad. Please, Bella? Let us help you?"

Alice's pleading caused the pain to erupt again, a slow rumbling in my stomach, swelling and taking up any vacant space.

"Maybe, Alice. Let me try to do this on my own. I really want to be able to do this on my own," I answered her, taking my hand from her grasp.

"On your own obviously isn't working, Bella." Alice was irritated now, her tone biting and sarcastic.

"I'm fine. I've got this under control, don't worry about me okay? Please, it's not worth your worry." Now I was the one pleading.

"Of course you're worth the worry! What the hell is wrong with you?" Alice didn't really want an answer. What the hell _is _wrong with me?

"Alice, just mind your own business. I know what I'm doing," I spat back, her rhetorical question still hanging in the air.

"Look, I will help you if you want me to. But if you're intent on destroying yourself, please, don't take my brother down with you." Alice turned and walked away, leaving me stewing in my shame.

In a daze, I went about gathering my belongings. I sat in the living room, on a chaise near the front door, ready and waiting to leave. My mind was numb and I forced it into silence. I didn't want to think anymore, didn't want to be anymore. I was wishing like hell I had some of those little brown pills to make this easier but I didn't think I could go about asking for them now with Alice in the know. I just focused on the carpet, this tiny red thread in the beige field, _"Nothing lasts for long"_.

"Are you ready to go?" The harmonious voice startled me, breaking my concentration. Edward was standing before me.

I nodded, following him out the front door and taking the passenger seat. We rode in silence, each lost in our own mulling. I inhaled deeply, the lingering scent of bacon and vanilla mixed with soap reminding me of my father, causing the numb fog to lift slightly. I glanced at Edward, trying to find the words for what I wanted to say.

"Thank you for breakfast, Edward." It was a start.

"It's a hobby of mine, cooking. It's just something I kind of like to do," he responded. I had an inkling this was more than a hobby.

I just stared at my hands, empty and blank, trying to find a way to make this right, when Edward suddenly started gasping and struggling to breathe. Holy shit what was going on?

He forced a word from his haggard gasps, "Bella!" His voice was raw and primitive, deep in intonation and lacking that musicality that normally adorned his voice. It was strange and troublesome, and like a flood, concern and worry rushed over the numbness.

"What?" I practically shouted. I reached out to touch his arm, hoping to ease his tension, and the buzzing of energy that I felt radiating through my fingertips had me wishing I could press every inch of my skin to his so I could feel this shock of life throughout my entire body. The pulse shook me from my haze and I was finally able to focus. _"Input, Output, Electricity."_

Edward eased at my touch and was able to pull the car to the side of the road. He brought his hands to his face and quiet tears leaked from the corner of his eyelids, trailing into his fingers and washing over his exceptional face. My heart ached for him, it just fucking broke, a tiny fissure that I wanted to mend with his soul, bring him into me and stitch it up with his selfless esteem and care.

"Edward? What's wrong? Hey, look at me. Look at me!" I was fully aware now, taking control of the situation, using this opportunity to return last night's favor. I gripped his arm now, trying to shock him out of his ragged breathing.

He turned toward me, his broken tear-stained face gazing into mine. "Bella?" he whispered, "I'm just having a hard time…staying away from you."

"No one told you to stay away from me, Edward." I slipped my hand into his, trailing my fingers down his arm. "See? You don't _have_ to stay away." Our hands formed a unit, a tangle of fingers, fused together in a palmer's kiss.

"Thank you Edward. For everything, for last night, for this morning, for this…right now." I turned to face him, ready to give myself to him, to feel that electricity pulse through my lips. I leaned in to catch his enticing scent, the clean freshness caught in my chest. I exhaled into his neck, parting my lips, ready to touch them to the skin of his neck, when he gasped, stopping me in my tracks.

He leaned away, "We'd better get you home now," he said quietly, and pulled the car onto the highway.

I felt like an idiot. I had totally put myself out there and he just fucking knocked me down and I was fucking pissed. What the hell?

Edward pulled the car into the driveway of Charlie's house and I could hardly wait to get out. I paused, ready to defend myself and my actions.

"I don't know what kind of fucked up mind games you people play here, but you can't just do that to somebody. You can't fucking "save" me and then talk to me all night and cook that phenomenal breakfast and then fucking hold my hand and almost kiss me and then… You just can't, it's not decent. It's shit, Edward! This whole thing, it's shit!" I slammed the door, satisfied with my display and hoping like hell I didn't slip on the way up to the front door.

I practically ran to the front door trying to find my fucking keys before I got to it. Shit! I tried the door but it was locked and I had to take a deep breath to calm my mind before I returned to my bag.

"Bella, you forgot one thing." I heard his voice and I turned to tell him to fuck off when his body collided with mine, his lips forceful and crushing as we connected. His hand slid down my back grabbing Alice's shirt and I felt a wave of lust spread from my swelling lungs down, down through my thighs, making my legs quiver with longing as he pulled me closer to him. I slid my fingers up his neck and into his bronze waves, twisting the curls gently while longing caused my other hand to crawl to his chest, the firm and sculpted flesh beneath my hand causing me to clutch the fabric in desperation. I could feel the scabbed wound on his lip and I wanted to taste it, the coppery substance a small piece of him I could ingest. I licked the wound, causing Edward to pull away. At first I was worried he was offended at this but then he engulfed my mouth, licking my bottom lip and pressing his tongue into my own. The ferociousness fading, lips and tongues, tasting and licking and swirling and just soaking him in, his mouth and hot breath curling around my own and I swear, my kneecaps fucking disappeared. _"When I think of your kisses, my mind seesaws…"_

I was out of air and needed to breathe so I pulled away from his mouth and he was reluctant to let me go. Then I remembered his words as he approached and I wasn't sure what he had meant.

"What?" he asked.

"Exactly. What did I forget?" What was he talking about? Did I leave something in his car?

He rolled his eyes, "This!" he said motioning to our embrace. Oh. Yeah, I'm an idiot.

"And this." He kissed me gently this time, slow and sensual, and then again, and again.

I lost myself in these gentle kisses, so much so that I wasn't aware of Charlie standing in the doorway.

"Get in the goddamn house, Bella." I startled, almost pissed my pants when I heard that deep, booming voice.

I pulled away from Edward, turning to face my father. I was shocked beyond belief. What the hell? Why was he out of bed? And why did he all of a sudden give a shit?

Edward stepped forward, "Good morning, Chief Swan." He moved to shake Charlie's hand but Charlie just turned and walked slowly back into the house. I turned to face Edward, defeat now on his face. He sighed and wrapped his long arms around my waist and pulled me into a remorseful hug. He pressed his lips against mine one last time and then kissed the tip of my nose. "I'll see you later, Bella. Call us if you need anything." I inhaled his scent one more time, greedy to keep it with me, and nodded. He let me go and I walked into the house, leaving him on the porch.

I prepared myself for the battle. I took a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm my nerves, still foggy from the most memorable kiss ever. There would be time for reminiscing later. Now, I was ready to deal with Charlie.

I walked from the foyer to the small living room. Charlie was seated on the couch, the afghan crumpled in a pile beside him.

"Where have you been?" Charlie's voice was grave and quiet, a cop first and foremost, questioning. I wondered if this was the good or the bad cop I was seeing now.

"I stayed the night with Alice Cullen. That was her brother, Edward. I believe you know them," I responded sarcastically. I was looking for a fight, dying for it, desperately needing answers from this man.

Charlie took in my tone, surveyed the situation, and opted to ignore my antagonistic attitude. So this must be the good cop. "Why didn't you call me?"

"Well, frankly, Dad, I didn't really think you'd give a shit," I answered honestly, spitting the words as they formed in my head. "I mean, it's not like you've been very involved in my life thus far, so I guess I figured one more night of anonymity wouldn't hurt."

Charlie recoiled, his hand moving to his chest. I panicked momentarily, worried that I'd somehow hurt him with my rash explanation. Then I remembered it was Charlie and nothing I did could hurt him, his cool indifference his greatest ally.

I continued because Charlie had opened the floodgates the moment he had opened the front door. "Why the fuck do you care now anyway?"

"Isabella, you will not use that language in this house, do you hear me?" Charlie morphed into bad cop practically before my eyes. But I didn't care. Really, what was the worst he could do?

"I'll use whatever the fuck language I want. You are not allowed to tell me what to do. You think you can parent me now? I'm almost a fucking adult, _Daddy_." I said that last word with as much venom as I could muster, wanting him to feel the brunt of his decision years ago, of his decision to not give a shit until now.

Charlie was subdued, again not the reaction I was expecting from him. I wanted him to yell back at me, berate me, tell me I was selfish and disrespectful for staying out all night then making out with a hot guy on the front porch, say anything that showed he cared even a little. Anything he could give me I would accept, anger, hate, guilt, shame, disappointment, I would take all of these in opposition to the indifference. The indifference made me void, canceled out my entire existence, giving validation to his decision to keep me out of his life. I could only imagine the conclusions he must have came to when he opened that door. It didn't look good, in the very least. He should have been pissed, ready to lock me in my room.

But he just sat there, taking my abuse, a broken man riddled with defeat.

"You're right, Bella," he said, shocking the hell out of me. "You're right. You are almost an adult. And I know I haven't been…" He was choking on the words, struggling to finish the thought. "But this is still my house and I still expect you to give me the same respect you would give any other adult."

I snorted. I understood and even agreed with his point. I did not agree with the context though. Respect was something to be earned and Charlie had done nothing to earn my respect yet.

"Well, Charlie, when you act like an adult instead of moping around here like a two-year-old, then I'll treat you like one." I waited for his response. Even I thought this comment was out of line. I thought he'd freak out for sure.

He just sighed, exhaustion evident in his withered eyes. He rubbed his face with his massive hands. "Just tell me next time you're going to be out all night doing…well, doing whatever the hell it is you're going to be doing."

"Are we done here?" I asked, fuming, his lack of emotion maddening. He didn't try to put me on restriction or forbid me from seeing Edward. He didn't even take away the truck, which was still parked in front of Mike Newton's house. He didn't offer one consequence for my behavior.

"Yeah, we're done," he stated. I turned on my heel and stormed up the stairs, slamming the door to my room. I collapsed on my bed, reveling in how I had experienced the full swing of the pendulum today, the highest of the high and the lowest of the low all wrapped up in one fucking day. I found my mp3 player, digging through my bag and tossing my t-shirt and jacket in the corner. In the comfort of a good friend and exhausted from the last twenty-four hours, images of Edward clad in a black apron and white t-shirt and barefoot in his kitchen flooded behind my eyelids as I drifted. _"Do you want to take a chance on finding some sweet romance?"_

…

**EPOV**

I should have been fucking exhausted but the high from kissing Bella was keeping me awake. I didn't remember driving home, my subconscious taking over and guiding me in the right direction, allowing my foot to hit the brake and gas accordingly, pulling the vehicle into my driveway and walking my tired ass into the house. Emmett was awake now and consuming a huge-ass plate of leftover crepes. I noticed he also had a huge empty mixing bowl, the milk residue left on the bottom indicating that crepes were second breakfast to cereal.

The moment I walked into the kitchen Emmett was harassing me. "Dude! What the fuck? You totally bailed on us and we had to get a ride home with Seth from the wrestling team. Rose is so fucking pissed at you." He was shaking his head, chuckling to himself.

"I kind of had more important things to attend to than Rose and her high-maintenance bullshit, okay" I responded. Exhaustion was beginning to settle over me and my limbs were becoming difficult to control.

"Oh, I heard all about it, dude." Emmett was grinning like a motherfucker now, a knowing smile making me want to punch him right in his fucking stupid-ass dimples. This is why I hate it when Emmett's right. He's not a gracious winner. "Did I not call it? I knew you'd be all up on that ass! Damn, it feels good to be a gangsta."

"I'm hardly, all up on that ass, as you so eloquently put it," I responded, defending myself. That's not what this is about, the ass. Sure, the ass was a definite benefit that hopefully I would get to enjoy at some point, but this was so much more than attraction.

"You will be, you will be, my young padawan," Emmett said in his best Yoda voice, which was pretty fucking horrible, especially between huge mouthfuls of berries and crepes. "I can teach you some moves, dude, if you need some help."

"You just keep your moves to yourself. No one needs to be subjected to that torture, except maybe Rosalie." I laughed, heading up the stairs to my room. My whole body was aching now, sleep calling to me, and in the time it took me to walk up two flights of stairs I suffered from naplash, like, three times.

When I finally got to my room, I didn't even bother to remove my shoes but I did notice the sweatshirt Bella had slept in last night wadded up on my bed. I pulled the fabric over my head, her sweet scent still stuck in the fabric, and holding the sweatshirt to my face I drifted into a deep sleep.

…

_Bella lay on her side on a flannel sheet, her dark wavy hair falling around her face, tendrils forming swirls on the terrain beneath her. The smell of grass in the sun, rich and earthy, dirt and lavender, the sweet familiar scent blossoming and spiraling around our bodies. Her brown velvet pools brimmed with pupil, enlarged and dark, the glow of the sunlight causing her pale skin to shine white as diamonds as I grasped her outstretched hand, an offering, a lifeboat pulling me into her embrace as I wept, tears streaming from my eyes, dampening the blanket that lay on the earth. _

_I curled into her, my face against her soft breast, her heart beating in my head, her chest heaving and lulling me into serenity and peace, molding my body to fit, convex against conclave, a union of pieces forming a solid whole entity. I felt my whole being come alive as my body fused with hers, opposites blending together to become a whole new shade never before gracing the universe. Pulled under, breathing erratically, drowning in deep satisfaction and ecstasy, our souls tumbled and twisted until our spirits escaped the confines of flesh, drifting upward, circling each other in an indefinite orbit. _

_She was still now, completely silent, and I pulled away from the warmth to gaze at her remarkable face. A small seeping of blood trailed from her mouth, smearing across her cheek. Perplexed, I reached up to inspect the wound and noticed a smear of red where my hand had been on her chest. A gaping blood stained gash between her breasts, Bella refused to move, her lifeless eyes charcoal black and thick with death. Her body hung limp in my arms now, her blood on my hands, and I brought her mouth to mine, sucking and drinking in the thick, sticky liquid oozing from her lips…_

…

I awoke to a black room, sweating and panting, feeling like I'd just run a fucking marathon or something, my heart pounding in my ribcage, my head pulsating with the images from a fucking nightmare that had me fighting off waves of nausea. The images flashed through my mind, Bella limp and lifeless in my arms, stilled, paused, burning in recollection, the taste and scent of her blood just rotting in my memory. I turned on the light and looked at my clean hands, inspecting them for traces of red. I was convinced by my fingernails which upon closer inspection were clean of any blood. Then I felt like a freak for actually inspecting my fingernails for blood from a dream.

I had to see Bella, make sure she was okay. That dream had been so fucking real, the smell of the earth, her warm body aligned with mine, and before I had even made up my mind I was moving out the door and down the stairs. I didn't run this time, the pain in my side still pronounced, but drove my car to her house, speeding along the streets, sometimes running a red light or stop sign when the intersection was vacant. The clock on the dashboard said only 9:23pm. I had been asleep for a little under ten hours, probably dreaming about fucked-up shit like drinking blood from dead Bella all day long. The imagery made itself known again and another wave of panic caused my foot to press more firmly on the accelerator of the Volvo.

I parked on the street. Just like the first time I was here, I didn't know how to go about getting her attention. There's no way I was going to knock on the door, not after this morning. I wasn't going to be able to climb onto her roof this time, so I picked up a tiny rock instead. I was going to have to do this the old fashioned way and fire a battery of tiny pebbles at her bedroom window until she noticed and either came down or invited me up. I chucked the pebble at her softly lit window. It hit with a plink, bouncing off the pane and landing on the roof. I waited. Nothing. Shit!

I searched for another small rock and threw it a little harder this time at her window and waited. I was still staring at the window when the front door opened.

"Edward?" Bella was standing in the doorway, her slim silhouette illuminated by a dull light from the living room. I walked over to the front door and taking her wrist in my hand, pulled her into my chest, engulfing her petite stature and feeling every inch of her electricity pulsating against me. Leaning down to press my nose into the indentation below her jaw, I inhaled her scent, just like I had wanted to do to her that first day in Biology.

She was still wearing a ponytail and I brought my hands to her face, trailing my fingers down her scalp and pulling the rubber band slowly down the length of her hair, allowing it to fall free around her shoulders. I pulled my fingers through the strands, massaging the nape of her neck and slightly pulling the hair away from the scalp. She closed her eyes, allowing her head to move with my hands, and I watched her relax into my fingers.

With my hands on the back of her neck I brought her lips to mine, pressing into the plump pink flesh, lightly sucking on her bottom lip and then pressing into it with my teeth. She inhaled sharply, causing a wave of desire to guide my actions, and I slid my tongue out to touch hers, sending out a few quick licks before truly entering her mouth and relishing in the flavor. Bella tasted amazing, like peppermint, the fresh coolness invading my senses now, a hint of sweetness on my taste buds. She pulled away slowly, placing a few lingering kisses on my lips before speaking.

"What are you doing here?" Bella folded her arms across her chest, wrapping the old flannel shirt around her shoulders and concealing her tight little black tank top.

I shrugged my shoulders. "I just wanted to see you." Unable to control the impulse to touch her, I brushed the now loose hair from her shoulders and face.

"Do you want to come inside?" she asked shyly, looking at her feet.

"Is that really a good idea? Won't Charlie be pissed?" I didn't think Charlie would like the idea of his daughter entertaining a male visitor, especially after the debacle this morning.

"Doesn't matter. He's passed out in his room having Percocet-induced dreams. He'll never know." Bella unfolded her arms and took my hand. "Come on, I'll show you my room." She pulled me into the house. Little did she know I'd already seen her room, but the idea had a whole new connotation now that I was invited. I followed her into the house, closing the door behind me. She pulled me up the stairs and I couldn't help but watch her hips sway back and forth in her thin sweatpants as she negotiated the steps. Her hair was falling in waves down her back and I had to fight the compulsion to reach out and stroke it.

Still holding my hand, energy humming around us, she led me to her small bedroom. Again, I was familiar with this room and had to feign novelty as she walked into the space. Her bed was littered with various paperbacks, the books covering the purple bedspread and offering an indication as to what Bella had been doing all day.

I sat on her bed as she dropped my hand. She stood in the middle of the room, gazing at me intently. Under her scrutiny I suddenly felt awkward. What did she think I was expecting by coming here tonight?

Trying to avoid my own thoughts, I picked up one of the books from the bed. I flipped through it, not really reading but just thankful for the distraction. Bella came to sit by me. "It really is a horrible story. The two characters do everything in their power to destroy each other, and even in death, they can't be apart." I'd read this book. It really was a tragic story.

"Like a binary star system," I said, recalling an article I had read on the internet a while back.

Bella tilted her head questioning my analogy. "What's that?" she asked, taking the book from my hands.

"Well, a binary star system is a solar system that has two stars," I began.

"Oh, like on Star Wars? On Tattooine, right? Where Luke lived?" Yes, and by the way I love you.

"Yeah, two stars, two suns, right! Anyway, in a binary star system, one star is usually dying and the other star is healthy. The dying star is running out of fuel and begins to collapse upon itself, becoming ever more dense. This smaller dead star feeds off the living star, literally pulling the fuel into its own ultra dense core until nothing is left to be burned and you're left with a black hole. In this book, the two characters are constantly trying to suck the life out of each other, and all that's left at the end of this book is a black hole, a place in space that nothing can escape, not even their children." Bella was staring at me incredulously now.

"And that's it then? They just die, these binary stars?" Bella asked, scooting to face me.

"Well, there are binary star systems that are healthy. Two stars formed in the same place in space and therefore have the same elemental makeup. They orbit indefinitely, their mass holding them together while the speed of the universe tries to rip them apart. Generally, they die at the same time." Bella was fascinated, leaning in towards me now and intently gazing into my eyes.

I had a flash of a brilliant idea, something that I do often at home and just had a feeling Bella would love.

"Do you want to look at the stars?" It had been a sunny day and the usual fog and cloud cover never arrived until the early hours of the morning. Bella nodded a quick yes and I stood up and grabbed the comforter off the bed, startling her. She finally stood up when she noticed what I was trying to do.

Bella spoke first. "What, like now?" she asked me, grabbing her shoes and putting them on.

"Yup," I said, opening her window and climbing out onto the ledge. I held my hand out for her to take.

"Edward, this is a really bad idea," she said, thinking of how much higher than that brick wall this was, I'd wager.

"Oh, come one, Bella. Don't you trust me?" I winked at her and reluctantly she let me pull her onto the landing outside of her window. She shivered a bit as she stepped into the cool evening air, but I wrapped the comforter around her shoulders and eased her onto the space of roof directly next to her bedroom window. "See? You're perfectly safe."

Bella laid back onto the roof, opening the comforter and beckoning for me to lay with her. I nuzzled into her side and she wrapped the comforter around the both of us. I could feel her heart beating within the cocoon she had created for us and I placed a tiny kiss on her temple, wrapping my arms around her and pulling her closer.

"Edward, I'm…I don't know…shit. I don't even know what this is, you know? Between us. What is it? What are we doing here?" Bella wanted a label.

"I don't know either, Bella," I said truthfully. "All I know is that if you are anywhere close to where I am, I have to be near you. Like, if I'm not there with you, I'm missing out on something fucking magical, you know? I can't explain it…" I tried to convey meaning by sliding my hand down to her hip, that same hip I gazed upon in lust that time when I came to watch her sleep, and I just wanted to fucking own that hip.

Bella must have understood, because she turned on her side then and looked into my eyes. Covetous and brimming, her lips slightly parted and her teeth came out to meet them.

"Edward, I've never.." She took a deep breath. "I'm still a… you know, v-word."

"What, virgin?" She nodded, ashamed.

"Hey, well, that's just one more thing we have in common," I said, wanting to ease her discomfort.

Bella looked up and smiled a big-ass goofy grin. "Well, that's unexpected," she said.

I just shrugged my shoulders and turned into her. "See, we're the same. Binary stars and shit, formed from the same elements."

Bella nodded, her breathing becoming whispered on my face as I pulled her lips to mine, forcing every plane of her tiny being to make contact with mine. I tasted her tongue, the fleshy muscle working in synchronization with mine, just fucking licking and tasting and pulsing right to my dick. Holy fuck, this girl could kiss.

I felt her hands move to my chest, her lips pulling away from mine and she began peppering kisses down my neck to my collarbone, her hands clutching the material and pulling it away, continuing to kiss and lick beneath where the sweatshirt had been.

It felt so fucking good, her mouth on my skin, lingering in the spark that our touching elicited. I wanted to return the favor, make her feel what I was feeling, so I brought her mouth to mine again. More forcefully this time, I plunged my tongue into her mouth, intertwining and swirling. I let my hands wander to her hips and I pulled her on top of me, rolling onto my back, and I was sure by her gasp that she could feel my very obvious hard-on through the material of my jeans.

This was a sight to see, the wide sky spanning the distance in various gradients of dark, littered with millions of stars, only interrupted by a heart-shaped face framed by wild and sprawling tendrils. And then there were her eyes, lustful, her lids laying heavy across her pupils. She licked her lips again and I reached up to pull her to me, kissing her neck and along her jaw, little nibbles causing her to rock on my dick as she straddled my lap.

My hands wandered her sides, rubbing across her stomach just below her breasts. I wanted to touch her everywhere but didn't know what would be appropriate a for late night, fucking cold, put you on the spot make out session. I just kept licking, kissing her neck, her ear, her lips and rubbing the material of her tank top into that poor spot directly under her breasts.

Our breathing heavy now, I heard her say, "Just fucking do it Edward," causing me to pause in my adornment of affection.

"What did you say?" I asked her. I had to be mistaken.

"I said just do it. You can feel me up, it's okay. I know you want to, your hands have been like right there for, like, the last twenty minutes. It's fucking torture!" She was matter of fact and to the point. She wanted me to grope the shit out of her.

I'm not one to complain, so I dove back into this girl, my lips on her neck again, nipping at her jaw, my hand slowly traveling up her side to palm her breast. She wasn't wearing a bra again and the material of her thin tank top allowed me to feel her already hard nipple precisely. At this contact she rocked again, forcing her weight against my dick and causing the most painfully splendid friction. I moaned into her neck and found her lips once again. I sucked her mouth into mine, enveloping her lips in a wave of heat and electricity, and I slid my fingers into the neckline of her tank. I pulled the neckline down to expose her breasts and leaned back to look at her in this position.

Fucking amazing, the vision of this girl, straddling my lap, her hands clutching and groping the troublesome sweatshirt I was wearing, her full lips swollen with lust and her hair a wicked tangle of waves just flying out every which way, some falling against the milky white skin of her shoulders and halfway hiding the small rosy nipples and the flesh of her dainty breasts. I brushed the hair back allowing my fingers to graze the buds before grasping both of her breasts forcefully, causing her head to fall slightly back and to the side in pleasure.

She let out a throaty moan and I had to have more. The pressure was building in my dick and I wanted her to get me off, but I didn't think it polite to just come right out and ask, so I focused on her instead. I continued to thrust my hand across her chest, rolling her nipple between my fingers and gently tugging on the hardened piece of flesh. I licked her neck and ear lobe and she moved with more ferocity now, rocking her hips back and forth, rubbing her pussy against my hard dick, which was just fucking pulsating now, desperate in the pursuit of that cosmic climax. I let my hands grasp her hips tightly, offering my assistance in providing that friction, and she wrapped her arms around my neck, snaking her hands into my hair and grasping the strands tightly, breathing heavily into my mouth.

Fuck, I wanted to see her come so bad. Just then Bella pulled my face into her chest and I licked her nipple, sending her head rolling back and letting a low curse slip from her lips. She pressed my face harder into her chest and I sucked the flesh into my mouth, flicking with my tongue, causing her hips to increase in speed. And then, as she pulled my head back to stick her tongue in my mouth, I fucking came in my pants, fucking white lights and spots and dizziness. I probably looked like a complete moron, but fuck, like hell if I was going to try to hold back from something like that.

I pulled her down onto my lap hard, just grinding into her as my dick twitched with bliss. And in that moment, she must have had her own white lights and spots and dizziness because she convulsed, arching her back and clutching the back of my neck, her nails digging into the skin. It was so fucking amazing I wanted to cry. But because I had already cried once today in front of this girl I restrained, instead placing tiny kisses all over Bella's shoulders and neck as she came down from her orgasm induced high. I readjusted her tank top and looked at her liquid eyes. She was beaming something fierce, just happy as fucking sin. I loved that I had made her feel this way, that I could offer somebody something more than pain or resistance. I kissed the tip of her nose and she shifted off of my lap, curling into my side, her little face burrowing into my chest. Bella Swan was my elemental match, formed in the same region of space, and I was intent on pulling her into my orbit indefinitely.

**A/N**

Okay, how was that? Was that good for you?? It's my first so be gentle…

Joni songs referenced:

_River_

_All I Want_

_Judgment of the Moon and Stars_

_Raised on Robbery_

_Chinese Café/Unchained Melody_

_Electricity_

And yes, I'm a Star Wars fan...and apparently so are E & B!!

Review my dears!


	9. And the Sparks Started Flying

**Darlings,**

We're taking shit back to the old school, well, because I'm an old fool...

You guys are brilliant! There is such a kinship amongst these readers, I feel like we're all just hanging out in a swanky bar, drinking and smoking and just enjoying the shit out of good conversation! Maybe it's because we have virtual drinks at Rehab...I don't know but I thank you for that my dears!

and beta phenom and my favorite fucking dag, **n7of9**, my most exquisite conversationalist...thank you for inspiration beyond belief...you're LJ page alone is necessary in the composing of lemons, adorned with robporn and just fricking beautiful man!! (I'm giggling at my ellipses and sponging!!!)

And all you lovelies that voted for this little diddy in the Indie Twifics...AMAZING! I'm stunned because this story has made it to the final round of voting! It's nominated in the category Best Use of Music as Inspiration WIP...If you're loving the Joni, vote for it bbs! (Link is on my profile page)

All Bella this time...

**CH. 9- "**_**And the Sparks Started Flying"**_

**BPOV**

How did I get here? How is this even happening? A week ago I was packing my entire life into a suitcase and boarding a plane, broken and sad and completely alone.

I peeked up, tilting my head back so I could fully see. Yep, he was still here and yep, he was still Edward fucking Cullen, all green-eyed, gorgeous and tangled up in my legs and arms on my small bed.

We'd stayed on the roof until the hostile haze of Forks coated us in a fine mist, dampening the comforter and causing me to shiver, despite being wrapped in that warm, warm body. I had suggested we move inside when my fingers went numb and I couldn't feel Edward's skin anymore. I had hidden my hands under the warmth of his sweatshirt, dragging my fingers up and down his sides trying to find a ticklish spot, all to no avail. We had talked about music and movies, pop culture shit that doesn't really matter but stuff people are intent to define themselves by. I had learned that he had an eclectic mix of musical mantras ranging from classic rock to more modern alternative, and occasionally dabbling in the world of lyrical hip hop. I explained my obsession with all things Joni and was surprised to learn he was familiar with my most cherished poetic genius. We talked about politics and social tribulations, agreeing on most issues and sparring on others, debating the disruptions plaguing the future of our society. I reveled in his ability to concisely and logically express his opinion, almost swaying my conviction at one point…almost. He talked about the stars, constellations and nebulas, just fucking blowing my mind with the shit he had bottled up in that beautiful brain of his.

Then there was the, well, what would I call that mystical display of sexual energy that we experienced on the roof? I mean, _oh my fucking God_! I had been felt up once or twice in my life and I had been pretty sure I'd almost had an orgasm those times, but I had been sorely, sorely mistaken. I had never been _truly_ groped before tonight. The way Edward's hands touched my body was a unique, ethereal experience. The electric impulse still radiated in my body, his presence lingering and leaving me craving that shock again. And his mouth, holy sweet Jesus, his mouth! When he licked my nipple, I swear I thought I was going to pass out. The fact that he even paid any attention to my chest left me in awe. The care and attention that he took, rubbing and kissing and licking, made me feel…and I know it sounds ridiculously cheesy, but he made me feel womanly. My body is so not sexy, flat and static, a most unfeminine figure, and I never really thought I could be sexually attractive to a guy. There is nothing about me that is womanly, I mean, I didn't even have a period anymore for Christ's sake. Knowing his touch and how it had affected me and knowing it affected him, knowing he found me desirable despite all my feminine shortcomings, offered me a chance to bask in confidence and sexuality, something I had never experienced before. All because he fucking groped me. _"And I feel like I'm just being born…"_

Then there was the grinding and blinding, his entire being a conduit of encouragement, guiding my body in the search for gratification. I wanted to feel every inch of him against me, I wanted to show him exactly how he made me feel, and I just wanted to fucking shred that barrier of material between us. I was afraid that would scare him and I really didn't want the sensation swelling between my legs to go away, even for the seconds it would have taken for clothing removal, so I just pressed and rocked against him, feeling him quiver beneath me as he dug his fingers into my hips, and moaned in satisfaction until I couldn't see anymore and my toes and fingers were tingling and dizziness consumed me. It was better than any high I'd ever had, greater than any satisfaction I'd ever gotten from purging or abstaining from food. It was a truly life altering experience knowing that I could cause this reaction in a person, that a person could satiate this need in me, nourish me in a whole new way and feed my very soul with carnal delicacies. I instantly ached for more than the appetizer we had shared last night.

It was now three forty-three in the morning and the residual sleep debt from the previous night was beginning to weigh on my eyelids. Edward was stroking my hair gently, twisting and curling the strands around his fingers, a lullaby of listless lucidity causing chills of relaxation and euphoria to spread across my scalp and down my neck. His damp sweatshirt now tossed on my floor, I traced the pronounced veins of his arm over the long, sinewy, developed muscles, pressing gently on his pulse points and pausing only to place tiny kisses on his skin. He was going to have to leave soon, before Charlie woke up and before his family would notice his absence, but I selfishly remained silent in an attempt to keep him here with me.

Edward softly grasped my hand and brought it to his lips, kissing my palm and wrist. He sighed and shifted underneath me and I knew the end was near, so I snuggled my face deeper into his chest, reaching to wrap my arms around him in desperation, his aroma enriching the air around me and actually causing my mouth to water with desire. Holy fuck, I have got it bad!

He chuckled softly at my futile attempt and gently slid off the bed, pulling me halfway up with him.

"Carlisle's going to be up soon," he stated, shoving his hands in his pockets after smoothing his hair a couple of times. I sat up on the bed and crossed my legs beneath me, a pathetic portrait of indignation as I fought to restrain my psychotic urges of clingification.

"I know," I said, pouting and stifling a yawn. I didn't know how to say goodbye and every particle in my body was screaming in protest. Edward must have sensed my reluctance because honestly, I really wasn't trying to hide it. He walked over to me and pulled up me from the bed, gently folding me against his body, moving my hair from my neck and whispering in my ear.

"I don't _want_ to go, Bella." His hot breath in my ear and on my neck had me envisioning his lips and tongue. He let his lips press into the space below my ear and then continued the soft adornments down my neck, removing his hands from my waist and bringing them up to run his thumbs from my collarbones to my shoulders. He continued to graze the skin of my neck and shoulders with his lips, slightly parting them and applying a small amount of suction and quite literally making my legs shake and tingle. His hands moved back to my neck, his fingers taking long strokes, massaging the back of my shoulders and up into my hair and the back of my head, as he gazed into my eyes. My breathing accelerated and I was practically panting, that tormenting ache coiling between my hips, the energy spiraling deep in my core. Shit, if my body was reacting this way to just his hands in my hair and his lips on my neck, I couldn't wait to feel his hands in other, lower, more sensitive areas. There was no way in hell I was going to be able to let him leave now.

Edward placed a small, innocent kiss on my forehead before dropping his hands from my hair and turning to leave the room. What the hell is he doing?

"Edward? What the hell do you think you are doing?" I said in annoyance. He turned, a little bewildered by my tone.

"I'm going home. Carlisle will be pissed if he wakes up and I'm not there." Edward's brow was heavy, confusion evident in his expression.

I felt like a total idiot, acting all obsessive and crazy. _What the hell is wrong with you, Bella? _Of course he had to go home. My mind was trying to be rational but my chest clenched at the thought of him leaving me.

I tried to salvage any shred of dignity I could muster. "Well, you didn't say goodbye," I said, trying not to expose the pitiful tears that were welling beneath my lids. I was mainly embarrassed that I'd nearly made such an ass out of myself, but a small part of the tears were in tribute to the loss of his company. I tried to tell myself it was just because I was tired, which was kind of true, or because of my argument with Charlie, which was also kind of true. In reality a small part of me was petrified that if Edward left he wouldn't ever come back and all of this, the roof, the kisses, the stars, all of it would just disappear.

Edward smiled, his lips forming a slanted crevice and his eyes creased in amusement. He walked back over to me, taking my hand and bringing it to his lips, placing a lingering kiss on the back of it in a very gentlemanly gesture.

"I know," he said, not offering any reasoning. Well, that was a shit answer. I just waited, pulling my hand from his and placing both hands on my hips, the universal sign for explain now please.

He smiled again, his eyes fixated on my hands as he took them from my hips. He looked up, dazzling green bombarding right through me. "Bella, I just… can't say goodbye to you. Don't make me do it, okay? I'm just going to go home and pretend that I'm still with you, like maybe you're just in the other room or something. And when I think of something funny I want to tell you or if I need to see your pretty little face, I'll just find you. Is that okay?"

I could only nod a quick yes, my voice apparently having vacated the building.

"Okay. We have an understanding. No goodbyes allowed." Edward wrapped his arms around my waist and burrowing his face into my shoulder, reassurance evident in his body language. He wanted me to know he was being honest and sincere. He turned his head and kissed my neck, lingering to take a breath, and then released me as he turned and walked out the door.

I thought about following him down the stairs and to the front door but I decided that was something you would do if you were saying goodbye, and I wasn't, because he had asked me not to. After I heard the front door open and close gently, I rushed to my window and watched Edward walk to his car. He glanced up at my room, smiling and shaking his head, and I had to smile too because despite my best efforts, I was in, one hundred percent in. Self preservation didn't stand a chance against soul mates.

…

I awoke way too early on Sunday morning, my head pounding from the lack of sleep, and I was just fucking freezing. My comforter lay on the floor, damp and discarded, a shell of a reminder of what had transpired last night. I rubbed my eyes, yawning and causing them to water, my neck and back stiff from dreamless and motionless sleep. I looked for further evidence that Edward was indeed in my room last night and that we had indeed blurred that careful line between friends and lovers. I scanned the floor looking for something tangible. Shit, my room was a mess. I was going to need to spend some time tidying up this barrage of belongings, maybe even finally unpacking my suitcase, before I even thought about inviting Edward back up to my room.

I walked into the hall intent on using the restroom and could hear a familiar voice downstairs. I stopped at the top of the stairs to listen for confirmation. Eavesdropping was a skill I was quickly becoming well acquainted with.

"I'm glad to see you're up and moving around, Charlie. Stagnation is the quickest way to delay recovery. Are you sleeping upstairs or down here?" Dr. Cullen was either on or by the couch, I think. His voice was full of concern and caution, questioning Charlie but trying not to pry.

"I had been sleeping upstairs but I think I'm gonna post up here on the couch from now on. In case I have any more visitors." Charlie's words were thick with implication and I wasn't sure which visitors he was referring to. I waited for Dr. Cullen to respond, just eager as all hell to hear even the tiniest hint of what might have been discussed in the Cullen household.

"That would be fine, better even. You shouldn't be using the stairs continuously for at least 6 weeks. Going up and down once in a while is okay, but you need to stay either up or down." Dr. Cullen was all business and I scoffed at his reluctance to spill. I heard the medical equipment being shifted around and thought I recognized the scribbling of pen on paper.

"So, how have you been doing with that list I gave you?" Dr. Cullen asked casually.

I could hear Charlie shifting on the soft couch, the springs groaning beneath his weight. "I'm doing just find with my list."

Dr. Cullen sighed slightly, "I see you got dressed today, that's a great start. Have you started making any lures? That used to be a hobby of yours, right?"

"Hmph! I don't even have the stuff I need to make a decent lure." Charlie was pouting, I could almost visualize his massive arms crossed over his paunchy chest in defiance.

"Have you talked to Bella? Maybe she can help you with this. It could be something you could do together." Dr. Cullen was grasping here. Fat chance doc!

Charlie was silent for an awkward amount of time, Dr. Cullen just sitting and waiting for his response. During the quiet I spread out on the floor, laying on my stomach on the landing, pressing my cheek into the cool wood floor and just begging for them to say anything.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Charlie spoke. "Bella doesn't want anything to do with me, Carlisle. And can you blame her really?"

The admission stung with contradiction, the underlying inference not yet alluded to. What did Charlie think was the reasoning behind my little emotional outburst yesterday? I thought I had been pretty clear in my words, using just the right amount of profanities for emphasis.

To my extreme surprise Dr. Cullen answered Charlie's rhetorical question, "No, Charlie, I can't blame her. She's probably going through a tough thing here. It's hard to be a teenager in a new place with a father she barely knows. Now, I'm not going to pretend that I know anything about this situation, but I do know that children need their parents, even when they think they don't, even when they tell you they don't. Even as they're spitting in your face, ignorant of every sacrifice that you've made with their well-being in mind, children still need their parents. Be a parent, Charlie."

Charlie didn't respond right away, probably debating whether or not to address the confrontation. It dawned on me that Charlie was a walking paradox, the way he shied away from conflict, yet spent his professional career in a world of interrogation and turmoil.

Speaking in a low voice, Charlie finally responded, "We had an argument, Carlisle, and I couldn't deal with her like that. The way she fired back at me, the fury glowing in those eyes, just reminded me of a different pair of brown eyes, a different time, a different dark haired girl. But it was disappointment all the same."

My breath caught in my chest, reproach consuming my previous irritation. He was equating me with my mother. Disgust burned in my face, my eyes welling with tears, because that woman was everything that annoyed the shit out of me. She was self-serving and weak, choosing to fulfill her own needs before anyone else's. Nobody came before Renee, not even me. She was the worst possible role model for a girl, the ultimate personification of passive aggressive superficiality and the fucking queen of guilt trips - and I was apparently just like her. No wonder he wouldn't fight back. In his relationship with my mother he was invariably resigned to defeat. Why should it be any different with me?

"I understand that would be difficult Charlie, but it's time to put that torch out. It's time to focus on your daughter rather than your ex-wife. I think that mending this relationship will be very beneficial to your recovery," Dr. Cullen offered.

Charlie sighed, a deep breath exhaling so loudly I could hear him from the top of the stairs. "I think she may be seeing your nephew, Edward. Did you know about this?"

Oh, fuck. I prayed to God that Dr. Cullen was cool and wouldn't spill about the debauched condition he had found me in.

Dr. Cullen chuckled, "I had some inclination. I mean, he made her crepes. He hardly ever makes crepes. How do you know they're seeing each other?"

"I caught them in a compromising position on the porch yesterday when he brought her home." Charlie spat the words maliciously. Shit, this was so fucking embarrassing, the two of them discussing my love life like a couple of gossipy old women.

"Hmmm. Well, what do you think about this partnership?" Dr. Cullen was playing the mediator.

"I don't like it. I don't like that she's been here a week and already she's got boys bringing her home after staying out all night. She's only seventeen and I don't want to see her plucked off the vine. I don't want to see her make the same mistakes as her mother." He paused, apparently relieved from the freedom of the verbal purge.

Plucked off the vine? What was I, a fucking squash?

Charlie continued, his thoughts flowing without interruption. "I don't like it that he had the nerve to kiss her on my front porch without even taking her on a proper date. Well, I'm assuming that of course, because Bella sure as shit wouldn't tell me something like that, but if he's going to kiss my daughter he should at least have to decency to stop in and shake my hand first.

"And I just don't know about that boy, Carlisle. It seems to me he likes trouble, he's not your average kid. There's something off about him, isn't there? I know he's your nephew, but he's been through a lot and people don't go through something like that without dealing with some trauma." I guessed Charlie was talking about the death of Edward's parents.

Dr. Cullen cleared his throat, "Charlie, this is where I have to intervene, because while I can appreciate your concerns, I cannot let you go on with these pretences about my nephew."

I was practically crawling down the stairs now, my curiosity overwhelming my need for stealth.

"Edward has been dealt a hard hand, Charlie. He's had to endure things you yourself have probably only read about in police reports. And still, he remains a constant source of comfort for our family, nourishing our needs over his and cultivating strength and goodness in his every action. I'm not denying that his past has left a scar, but he's healing too Charlie. It's just that, I've seen a change in him the last couple of days, a good change. I'm thinking Bella might have had something to do with that. I think they might be good for each other." Dr. Cullen shifted in his seat, the coil springs singing under his shifting weight.

Charlie exhaled a noisy breath again, clearing his throat slightly. "Well, I'll be expecting Edward to be making some proper advances concerning this…relationship." He voiced the word like a derogatory term and I could practically see his lips pursing at the bitterness. "Like taking her on a proper date, somewhere nice…and he should get her flowers."

This last command caused the tears dancing on the verge of expulsion to spill over the brim, streams of salty remorse trailing across my face as I lay with my cheek pressed to the floor, running down to the tip of my nose, puddling under my cheek and seeping into my hair. I had never heard Charlie speak of me with such…concern, like he really fucking gave a damn. I didn't know why he wasn't able to look at me or talk to me, but his concern over this boy was the tiny inclination that I needed to hear. Maybe I wasn't invisible to Charlie after all. Maybe he even liked me a little. Maybe.

I'm sure they continued to discuss this fucking shithole of a situation we were in, but I didn't want to hear anything else, the fear of Charlie's rejection once again dissipating the hope that now filled my head and motivating me to move away from my meddlesome monitoring of their conversation.

I went into the bathroom and shut the door with an obvious slam so they would know I was awake. I stood at the sink, allowing the water from the faucet to get warm before I splashed my face and washed away any trace of the compunctious crying. I quickly brushed my teeth and ran a comb through my raveled hair, the snarls and knots proving a pain in the ass, so much so that I eventually gave up and tied the twisted mess up into a bun. Ugh, I needed a shower badly, the night's um…residue, still lingering in my clothing, but I was eager to see if Charlie would talk to me today. We hadn't spoken since yesterday, after my tirade I had locked myself in my room with my books, immersing myself in imaginary lands and languages, but now I wanted to set things right.

I bumbled my way down the stairs, giving the direct impression that I was approaching, hoping they would get the hint and shut up about all the relationship shit. I peeked into the living room as I approached the first floor and, finding it empty, I walked into the kitchen. Dr. Cullen and Charlie were seated at the kitchen table drinking tea and discussing the latest trade rumor for some various sports team. They both looked up at me when I entered the room.

"Good morning," I said, trying not to let the fact that I had been snooping in on their conversation show in my conduct.

Charlie cleared his throat, "Um…good morning Bella." Well, we had to start somewhere. I got a glass from the cupboard and filled it with some water from the tap.

"Nice to see you again, Bella," Dr. Cullen addressed me, paranoia creeping into my carriage. Please don't let him mention the alcohol-induced concussion…

"Hi Dr. Cullen," I mumbled, taking a drink of my water.

"Please, call me Carlisle. We're all acquainted here, right?" He sipped his hot tea and I understood the lurking connotation of his remark. Hopefully this meant he wasn't going to rat me out.

"Okay, Carlisle," I said, taking another drink of my water before emptying the cup and placing it in the sink.

"So, um, Carlisle, how's Charlie's recovery coming? I mean, is there anything I can do to help?" It was a small offering, my interest and concern, but I was hoping it would be one that Charlie would appreciate. I mean, I was going out on a fucking limb here, the rejection of my pastina from the other night still a fresh wound to my ego.

Charlie paused mid-sip and darted his eyes to mine for the briefest moment, faltering in his apathetic façade for just an instant, an instant that strengthened my eagerness to show regard for his healing.

"Well, how do you feel Charlie? Do you feel like your recovery is going well?" Carlisle put Charlie on the spot and it was obvious Charlie did not like this.

"Hmph, sure, I guess." The return of the one word answers.

"O-kay," I said sarcastically. I was getting pretty sick of these stupid games. I care, I don't care, maybe I care a little bit…it was ridiculously absurd that a grown man felt the need to play hard-to-get with his fucking kid.

Charlie and Carlisle both looked up at me then, surprised by my tone.

"What?" I asked, ready to defend myself. "This is insane. I can't get a straight answer out of either of you. Will someone just tell me what to do to help? Maybe I'll do something right for a change if I don't have to _guess_ at what is expected of me." I almost said the f-word like five times but refrained. I didn't want to be a trash mouth in front of Carlisle.

Carlisle opened his mouth to speak but the phone cut him off. Neither one of them acted like they were going to answer it so I picked up the receiver, feeling a tad out of place answering Charlie's phone.

"Hello?" I said into the receiver.

"Bella?" A familiar soprano voice emanated from the handset.

"Alice? Hey, what's up?" I asked, confusion plain in my tone.

"Hey! So, how are you?" Alice was being polite, our last conversation probably still fresh in her memory. She had actually been really great about it, despite the way the conversation had ended. She could have made me confess everything to her, she could have pushed and pried until I eventually gave in and spilled it all, but she didn't, and I loved her for recognizing that I needed to come to terms with this…illness on my own. Any help right now would be futile because I was not in a place where I could just give it up. I didn't know how to be without it. I didn't know if I _could_ be without it, my body sometimes reacting without my consent. I had some shit to work out, for sure, but I couldn't do it under pressure and I wasn't ready to do it with an audience.

"I'm…conflicted." I wanted to be honest and I didn't think there was an adjective out there to sum up the horde of emotions I had been through in the last twenty-four hours. Conflicted would have to suffice.

"Ah, yes. That makes perfect sense. I can see how a person in your position would be conflicted today." I could almost hear her smirking over the phone. "So, are you in love with my brother yet or what?"

"Jesus, Alice, I've only known him a week." I blushed at the thought of her brother and love in the same sentence. Those were some pretty heavy words right there, a weight I wasn't ready or even capable of carrying yet. I glanced over my shoulder at Carlisle and Charlie who were silent now, obviously listening to my conversation. I turned so that my back was to them so I could more efficiently muffle my voice. "Why, what did he say?" I added pathetically.

"Nothing, Bella!" Alice laughed into the receiver. "The attraction was just so horribly obvious."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm an open book," I retorted, cynicism tainting the all too true words.

Alice continued to giggle, and I smiled a little too.

"Okay, I had a reason for calling, I promise," Alice said in between breaths. "Um, this is going to sound weird, but when's your birthday?"

"Why?" I asked, suspiciously.

Alice sighed into the phone, "Just tell me, it's for research."

"Um, okay, September 13th," I told her.

"A Virgo, huh? That's interesting…what time?" Alice continued.

"What do you mean, what time?" What the hell was Alice talking about? I was starting to worry about what little Miss Cullen had up her sleeve.

"What time were you born?" Alice asked, exasperated. How the hell was I supposed to know that's what she meant?

"Shit, I don't know Alice." I wasn't about to call Renee. I really wasn't in the mood for storytelling and there's no way I could tell her about what was going on here in Forks.

"Well, ask Charlie," Alice pressed. I glanced over my shoulder again. Charlie and Carlisle looked perplexed and I almost laughed at their matching expressions. I seriously doubted Charlie would know what time I was born.

"Um, I don't think that's going to work." I was hoping she'd take the hint and drop it.

Of course, Alice didn't drop it. "Why won't that work? Let me talk to him, I'll ask if you're too chicken," she said.

"Alice, just drop it okay? This really isn't a good time," I said in a hurried whisper, hoping my audience wouldn't get suspicious. It was difficult to hide my tone though, and the next time I glanced over my shoulder Carlisle was giving me questioning expression.

"Bella, is there a problem with Alice?" Carlisle was concerned.

"Hold on Alice," I said, pulling the phone from my ear. "No, Alice just wants to know what time I was born for some inane reason she won't divulge, but I don't know and she won't let it go."

"5:49 in the morning." Charlie was staring into his cup of tea. My head whipped around to look at him, utter shock apparent in my expression.

"It was a Tuesday. I know because I was working dispatch when I got the call from your mom." Charlie turned his gaze to the kitchen window and glared at the pane.

It took me a moment to remember that Alice was still on the phone. I put the receiver to my ear. "5:49 in the morning Alice."

"Bella, what's wrong? Are you okay?" Alice's questioning faded as I watched Charlie watching the window.

"Yeah. I'm good, Alice," I said, still dumbfounded that Charlie had remembered those details for so long. "Um, I have to go. I'll see you at school tomorrow."

"Okay, I gotcha. Is Carlisle still there?" Alice asked.

"Yeah, do you want to talk to him?" I responded, focusing on Carlisle now.

"Yeah, let me talk to him," Alice said. I handed Carlisle the receiver and glanced again at Charlie who refused to meet my eyes.

I left the kitchen to retreat to my bedroom, deciding that conflicted was a very appropriate word for how I was feeling today. I was so confused. Why would Charlie act so awful but then worry about me staying out late and kissing a boy? Why would Charlie ignore my existence but then suggest that Edward get me flowers and take me on a real date? Why would Charlie forget about me for seven years, but remembered the time I was born? Charlie was rich in contradiction, full of unsolved puzzles which fostered perplexing conclusions.

I began to clean up my room, gathering the dirty clothes and creating a pile of filth in the otherwise tidy space. As I was pulling clothes from beneath my bed I noticed Edward's sweatshirt, still folded from this morning. I instantly brought it to my face, sucking in the summery scent greedily. I pulled the sweatshirt over my head. Yeah, I needed to wash it, the smell of slight mildew and mist coating the material, but it reminded me of Edward's lips on my neck and his fingers in my hair. I shivered as the ghost of his touch grazed over my skin, giving me goosebumps.

I heard the familiar cry of a strained vehicle barreling down the street. What the hell? I quickly moved to the window just in time to see my truck pulling into the driveway. Edward got out of the driver side door as I heard the front door slam, and a moment later Carlisle walked out to meet him but Edward ran past him and up to the front door, I was assuming, and then back down to Carlisle's black Mercedes on the street.

Edward looked up at my window then, his taunting lips curled in a grin, and got into the passenger seat of the big black car. Carlisle took the driver's seat and the Mercedes pulled away from the curb and headed down the street.

Well, this just added to my horribly conflicted mood. I mean, it was incredibly sweet of him to bring me my truck, not to mention extremely convenient considering I really had no other way of getting it, but my ego throbbed at the fact that he didn't even come in to at least say hi or maybe kiss or touch me a little.

I just sighed, trying to silence that obsessive crazy person lurking just beneath the surface, dying to pick up the phone and call Edward, but it had only been, like, eight hours since I had seen him. I could survive a whole day without him, right? Stifling the urge, I continued to clean my room, showered, did laundry, read my books, intent on busying my mind and trying not to think of school tomorrow. I didn't know what to expect, what Edward would want to disclose about our relationship or if he wanted to disclose anything at all. It was the worst form of torture, going over every possible scenario in my head and determining my course of action for each of them. It was awful, the anticipation seeping into my every thought as I lay down that night to sleep, eager for the morning and the answers it would bring. I just hoped they were the answers I could live with.

…

As I drove through the misty fog to school I gave myself a little pep talk, reminding myself that Edward Cullen was not the center of the universe and that I would be perfectly fine with him pretending that nothing had happened this weekend. It was all lies of course, completely false statements my sense of self preservation had conjured up in an attempt to function normally. It took me a ridiculously long time to get ready this morning, I had showered, shaving my legs meticulously, then debated my attire and which hair style would be most appealing, as if any of this really had any bearing on anything. I mean, I don't think anyone had ever been denied soul mate status based upon what they were wearing. This thought helped me decide on some black pants and one of the t-shirts at my disposal. I kept my hair down though, just in case my most desirable scenario played out and Edward would want to run his long fingers through it again.

I had grabbed an apple and my coat on my way out the door, intent on not embarrassing myself with antics of the unconscious nature because I was calorie deprived. I ate the apple slowly, my body quickly absorbing the nutritional necessity and causing a slight discomfort in my gut, but nothing that I couldn't live with.

I scanned the parking lot as I pulled into the school, the silver Volvo already in place. Shit! I took a couple of deep breaths, nervous as all hell and practically hyperventilating. _Get a grip, Bella! Pull yourself together!_

I parked the truck a few spaces from Edward's car and killed the engine. I put my head on the steering wheel, trying to compose my nerves. Maybe the apple was a bad idea, my stomach was churning with apprehension. I was trying to settle my nerves when a loud rap on my window caused me to jump.

Shit! I rolled down the window. Jasper was leaning against the side of my truck, dapper in his vintage threads and chewing a toothpick, effectively displaying his carefully articulated retro persona.

"Shit, Jasper! What the hell? You scared the crap out of me!" Jasper leaned into my truck, placing his folded arms on the windowless door.

"Sorry doll, I'm in a bit of a rush. Occupational hazard, you dig?" Jasper grinned at me, his toothpick pushed to one side, and raised his eyebrows. A small baggie containing thirty or so brown pills dropped from his clenched hand to his fingers, his hand hanging low inside the window. In all the excess of activity I had found myself immersed in this weekend, I had totally forgotten about asking Jasper for pills.

"Oh!" I was surprised. I really hadn't expected him to come through, especially now that Alice was so well informed. "Cool. Um, what's the cost?" I asked, taking the bag from his fingers. My monetary situation was quickly becoming a dilemma. I mean, I had never had tons of cash at my disposal, but I had never really gone without. With Charlie, I just didn't feel comfortable taking his money, it being just another method of nourishment I was intent on denying.

"No cost. Consider it repayment, for keeping our courtship copasetic. Alice seems to think it's best this way." Jasper looked away, leaning slightly away from the truck.

"Right, no problem. We all have our secrets, right?" I mumbled, the pills weighing heavily in my hand. "What's the dosage?"

"Thirty milligrams, XR. Don't take more than two in a twenty-four hour period. I'm sure you know all the grisly details concerning side effects. You seem well-informed." Jasper turned to eye me carefully, his expression revealing some sort of inner conflict.

I rolled my eyes at his concern, "No worries, I'm not looking for a fix. I just need to focus, you know."

"Right." Jasper nodded in agreement. "Just, be careful. You kind of matter to people that matter to me." Since when did drug deals come with warning labels? As if I didn't feel guilty enough as it was.

"Does Alice know that…you know?" I was having a hard time using the words now that Jasper had acted all worried and shit, like I was doing something wrong.

"Not yet. But you know Alice, she doesn't stay in the dark long." Jasper smiled at the thought of his girl, this small gesture so telling as to the depth of their relationship.

I nodded in agreement. "Yeah, she's pretty incredible." I felt like a total shithead, the pills becoming salt in a gaping wound.

"Yes she is." Jasper pulled away from the window. "Well, see you around, Bella."

Before I could respond, Jasper shoved his hands in his pocket and took off across the parking lot. I threw the pills in my bag. There's no way I could take them now, not after that conversation. I thought about flushing them, to relieve my own discomfort, but it seemed like an awful big waste. And there was always the chance that I might need them at some point…I decided it best to hold onto them, just in case.

I grabbed my tote bag and got out of my truck, slamming the door and as I turned I collided with a tall, slim body, warm honey assaulting my discernment. "Shit!" I exclaimed, as strong arms gently righted my position, holding me into a snug embrace. What was this, startle the hell out of Bella day?

But the position I found myself in was definitely part of the most desirable scenario I had concocted for today. I looked up to find Edward's emeralds glittering and creased in concern. The stitches on his cheek had been removed, a small bandage over the cut instead, the bruises yellowing and almost indiscernible now. His reddish brown waves were freshly washed and still damp from his morning shower. Edward smelled so damn good, a mixture of soap and spice, his scent more potent to me from its absence. I wanted to taste him, licking my lips in anticipation, a coy grin playing on my lips. He recognized my desire and leaned down to place a delicate, muted kiss on my lips. Not enough, my brain was screaming, but I had only begun to assess this situation. "_He's my sunshine in the morning, he's my fireworks at the end of the day…"_

"Hi," he said quietly, searching my expression.

"Hey," I replied, not quite sure how comfortable Edward was with public displays of affection. He still hadn't released me, his arms snug around my middle. I tested the waters, bringing my hand to his chest, smoothing over the firm muscle and running my hand up his neck and into his hair, massaging his nape as he had done for me. His eyes fluttered closed, a small smile forming on his lips. I gripped the back of his neck more firmly and brought his mouth to mine, kissing him deeply this time, licking his lip before gently entering his mouth fully. He quickly matched my eagerness with fervor, twirling and pivoting his tongue around mine, a pirouette of intensity. He pulled me closer, weaving his hand into the length of my hair and pressing me into his chest, his other hand coming up to cradle my face, his fingers sprawling to clutch my jaw, and just fucking swallowing me up.

Coming back to coherency I realized we were still standing in the parking lot, which was now crawling with students. I tried to pull away slightly, finding myself locked into this position by Edward's unyielding grip. His reluctance to release me sent a frenzy of electric excitement spiraling between my legs and I groaned instinctively into his mouth.

Edward pulled away, panting and staring wide-eyed at my face, his gaze skipping across my features. He brought both hands to my face now, smoothing my cheeks with his thumbs and kissing me sweetly, a delicate peck on the lips and then one on the tip of my nose.

"Fuck Bella, I don't know if we can do this in public. We might get arrested. I mean, that had to be obscenely indecent," Edward muttered, wrapping his arms around me once more.

"Hmm, obscenely indecent, huh? Yeah, that's awesome." Self control was getting more difficult to channel the closer I got to Edward. It seemed there was an inverse correlation between proximity and restraint.

Edward chuckled and released his grip, causing me to frown at the disconnect. He placed his arm around my shoulder instead, leading me onto campus. "May I walk you to class, Miss Swan?" he asked in a very gentlemanly voice, his decorum smoldering and reminiscent of one of my nineteenth century novels.

"Of course. If you didn't, I'd be wicked pissed." I smiled, glad to offset his formal cadence. We walked onto campus and I swear you would have thought we were humping right there in the quad the way people were staring. Apparently, Edward was a hot commodity among the ladies because I was getting fucking death threats in the form of glares as he walked me to class.

"What class do you get to suffer through this morning?" he asked me as we walked through the campus.

"Um, English," I answered hesitantly. "Yeah, I have Jessica Stanley in this class."

"Of course you do," he responded, his voice dry and sarcastic. I suddenly felt very apprehensive about Jessica and how she was going to react to this. I mean, I was going to have to deal with her in Spanish also, and it was obvious in her actions at the party Friday night that she could be a little overdramatic.

We made our way to the English building and Edward bravely lead me through the doors. Jessica and a couple of other girls I didn't really know were standing outside the classroom. I could faintly hear Jessica's slur of profanities as we approached the door. Edward's grip on my shoulder tightened in response to their stares. I heard someone mutter "skinny-ass bitch" and "probably on drugs" and I just had to smile because it was so typical for them to jump to that conclusion. It was the same shit I had put up with in Phoenix and it really didn't phase me anymore. What was more disturbing was the apparent lack of imagination plaguing the youth of the United States. Couldn't they think of something a little more unique?

Edward leaned over to whisper in my ear. "Are you going to be okay?" His concern caused a great swelling in my chest and I snuggled further into his side, practically trying to fuse myself to him or something.

"Of course I'll be okay. These chicks are nothing," I responded. He leaned over and kissed my forehead, which was probably for the best seeing as how whenever our lips met our ability to restrain seemed to disappear.

"Good. I'll see you at lunch, okay?" Fuck, lunch! Yeah, totally forgot about that issue for a minute.

"Okay. Have a great learning day!" I said, my voice rich with sarcasm. It was something my fifth grade teacher used to say and I had used it ever since, usually when I wanted to mock the public school system.

Edward walked away chuckling to himself. I entered the classroom and took a seat in the front. I pulled out one of my books and began reading. Jessica and her horde of hussies ambled into the classroom and she took the seat behind me, still muttering various attacks on my character. I ignored her, trying to put myself in her shoes so I wouldn't punch the bitch in the face. I tried to imagine how I would feel if some girl swooped in on my crush, a guy I had not only thrown myself at but made a complete fool of myself in front of as well. It had to be pretty devastating.

"So, Bella, how much is Edward Cullen paying you to fuck him?" Jessica was sitting directly behind me, speaking in a voice low enough to not make a scene but loud enough for everyone in our immediate vicinity to hear. _"There's always somebody callin' you down…"_

I sighed. I had been expecting this. "Jessica, that doesn't even make sense. Are you trying to slam me or Edward? Because that statement infers that I'm actually rather delightful in the sack, so much so that someone would pay money to sleep with me. Are sure that's an insult?"

Jessica just blinked at me, opening her mouth to retort but unable able to follow my logic. I smiled at her and turned back around. Yep, logic will get them every time.

Jessica didn't bother me for the rest of class and the remainder of the morning actually sped by, the more pertinent issue being what in the hell was I going to do about lunch. Now that Alice knew what was up I didn't know if I could maintain my non-eating habits in front of her.

Edward was waiting for me by the door to the lunch room, his blue button up short sleeved shirt clinging to his sculpted, lanky frame. He smiled softly when he saw me, one cheek creasing slightly higher than the other, his lips forming an adorably uneven fissure.

He didn't say anything, just reached for my wrist, bringing it to his lips and pulling me into a gentle squeeze. "How was your morning?" he asked me as he bent to kiss my jaw. Little shivers went scurrying over my skin, up across my scalp and down my neck and across my shoulders, causing goosebumps to break out all over my arms.

"Horribly dull," I responded. "And yours?"

"Getting better," he whispered against my skin, causing another wave of shivers. He pulled away, brushing the hair from my face. "Hungry?"

We walked into the lunch room, moving to a table already occupied by Rosalie and Emmett.

"Ugh, I hate cafeteria food." This was all I could come up with. I'd had, like, four hours to sit and think about it and this was all I could come up with. It was a meager excuse, I know.

"Hmm. You're in luck. I don't eat cafeteria food." Of course not. Why didn't I anticipate this response? Wow, Bella, nice one, way to hit one out of the park.

"Oh? What do you eat then?" I asked, my voice wavering and slowly filling with panic. I swallowed a couple of times, my throat parched, a dry barren desert of desperation.

"I made grilled eggplant and roasted red pepper sandwiches, with marinara and melted provolone cheese. Now, before you judge, remember that these should really be served hot and fresh, but they're pretty good lukewarm too." He pulled out a large grocery bag of sandwiches wrapped in foil as we arrived at the table. Emmett looked up at us, a big goobery grin on his face. Rosalie scowled and ignored us, a reaction to be anticipated seeing as how she pretty much hated my guts.

"Bella! You're back! I'd have thought after this weekend you'd be hightailing it back to Phoenix." Emmett winked at me causing me to blush furiously. Shit, I hoped Edward hadn't spilled about the roof.

"Yeah, well, I'm pretty resilient. I always bounce back." I looked down, feeling the blush creeping up my neck again.

"I guess it's pretty easy to bounce back when you have prince charming rescuing you all the time, huh?" Rosalie broke her silence to offer her snide remark.

"Shut it, Rose," Edward muttered.

"What? I'm just saying, if you can't hold your liquor you shouldn't drink. And you shouldn't climb walls if you can't walk in a straight line. It's all very damsel in distress, isn't it now?" Oh, _that's_ why she hated me. She thought I was just some stupid girl that needed attention and acted like an idiot on purpose in order to get it. You know, a "look at me" girl.

She really wasn't that far off.

"Fuck, Rose. Do you have to-" Edward started to defend me again but I interrupted.

"No, Edward. She's right." I knew what kind a girl Rosalie was. The weaker you appear, the harder she pushes until you're broken and she has won. Well, sometimes when you submit, when you appear weak, you gain control, the way the land submits to the constant pressure of a stream, the water continuously berating the soil, pushing and crumbling and dragging little bits of rock and silt away with it. Eventually, you have a full bodied river, the water a tumultuous force, bending the will of the terrain and forcing the earth to mold.

Sometimes, all you need is a little stream.

"I acted like a total idiot. I drank too much, I smoked too much, and I made dumb decisions. It was very foolish and I'm lucky Edward was there to help me." Admitting fault was never my strong suit and I hoped I was doing it justice.

Rosalie was staring at me now, dumbfounded. Edward smirked and went back to readying our lunch while Emmett gaped, his head whipping back and forth between Rosalie and myself.

Alice's clear voice interrupted the heavy silence. "Hey guys! What's for lunch? I'm fucking starving." Alice plopped into the seat next to me, giving me a wary glance. Her black hair was wavy today, brushed back from her face and held in place with some strategic clips. She was wearing a large red sweatshirt paired with black leggings, the neckline cut to expose her shoulder and her black tank top underneath, very eighties. I smiled at her, trying to convey a silent apology for the last time I had seen her. She smiled back and I was thankful for her quick acceptance. Of course, I had learnt that there's no telling what's going through that brain of hers and a small part of me continued to worry about what she was plotting.

"Eggplant sandwiches," Edward said, handing her one of the foil packages. Alice took the sandwich and unwrapped it, the scent of marinara wafting around the table. Fuck, it smelled delicious. My stomach growled and churned in anticipation, agitation itching under my skin.

Edward handed me my sandwich and I held the foil package in my hand for a moment, an internal battle waging, my will quickly fading as Edward's expectant eyes monitored my mannerisms. I smiled at him, opening the package and exposing the hoagie filled with the eggplant mixture. Thank God he had cut them in half because there was no way I was going to be able to eat this whole sandwich.

I picked up half of the sandwich and took a small bite. The flavor was amazing. The eggplant, a tad smoky, was grilled to perfection, not too soggy yet not too firm, and paired with the roasted red peppers, the vegetables were a mixture of savory and sweet. And the sauce, oh my sweet Jesus the fucking marinara sauce. I hadn't had marinara this good in like…well, in like ever. It was sweet and a tad spicy, just the right amount of basil to offset the tartness of the tomatoes. Edward really was an amazing cook, his food like fucking art, the blending of colors and flavors just beautiful to look at and even more beautiful to taste.

I ate the whole fucking thing. I don't even remember what they were talking about, some video game or some shit. All I could focus on was this damn sandwich and how Edward had created this for his family and for me, for nourishment, sustenance, pure selflessness in his care and actions. Shit, I wanted to cry. He was so beautiful, not just his face but his spirit, his very soul was a natural nurturer. It was a fucking remarkable thing that he even wanted to be with someone like me.

When I came out of my marinara-induced stupor, Alice was staring at me intently, and the slow rumbling was building in my belly, my fucking body discarding Edward's devotion once again. It was all kinds of frustrating.

I tried to stifle the nausea, repress the compulsion. I took deep breaths, filling myself with oxygen, inhaling through my nose and exhaling through my mouth, trying not to be a loud mouth breather, and just petrified of puking up this meal, petrified that I would never be able to function normally, that I could never fully enjoy Edward's creations and therefore never fully enjoy Edward himself.

The worst feeling was knowing that I had done this to myself. This wasn't the byproduct of some rare disease that I had been cursed with. I had cursed myself, looked Karma in the face and whispered a fuck you as I bent over that porcelain bowl time and time again.

The guilt was beginning to consume me and my belly straining against the waistband of my pants was an immutable reminder of my inability to monitor my intake. I needed to at least go to the restroom, maybe to just puke up little bit. Maybe I could keep a portion of the sustenance with me while satisfying the compulsion to purge. I had to try something, anything, because I was not going to be able to hide my discomfort from Edward during Biology.

Edward was engaged in conversation with Emmett, the two of them arguing over something. I touched Edward's arm, trying to be subtle. "I'm going to go the restroom. I'll be right back." I could barely get the words out without bursting into tears. I kissed his cheek and got up to leave.

Alice, noticing our interaction, stood up. "Where are you going, Bella?" she asked, and I knew what she was doing. Fucking shit, not now Alice, please!

"I'm have to pee," I said, trying to send a very pointed message: _Fucking butt out_.

Alice stared me down, acknowledgment in her face but stubbornness burning in her green eyes. "Me too. I'll go with you." She stood up, grabbing her bag and heading out of the lunch room. I knew where she was going and I followed her to the school day-smoking restroom, ready to let her have it.

I ran to catch up with her, grabbing her shoulder and turning her to face me.

"What the fuck do you think you are doing?" I asked her, trying to remain inconspicuous due to the clusters of students milling around in the quad area. Alice just ignored me and continued walking to the restroom, past the Science building. Again, I had to jog to keep up with her and when I finally caught her she had entered the restroom without so much as a glance at me. I caught the door as it was closing and followed her into the small room.

Alice was already standing on the toilet, her Doc Marten boots carefully balanced, and opening the small windows for ventilation. Shit, she was going to have a fucking smoke, which meant she was planning on staying. Well, fuck! Fine, if she wanted to see me like this, then fine. Two could play at this game.

She hopped off the toilet and stared at me.

"Bella, I can't make you stop, I'm not even going to try, but I can sit in this restroom all fucking day if I have to. If you're going to do this, you're going to have to do it with me in here. I'm not leaving until you do." Alice leaned against the tile wall and took out her pack of cigarettes and her lighter. She put one of the cylinders into her mouth, lighting and puffing, smoke filling the room and causing the ache in my stomach to scream.

"Fine. I've puked in front of you before. Big fucking deal." I shrugged my shoulders. Actually, it was a big fucking deal, because I didn't know if I could do this with her in here. Sometimes it doesn't come right up and it's embarrassing as all fuck, the spitting and gagging that goes on in the process.

I pushed open the door to the stall and kneeled on the disgusting tile floor. Public restrooms were always the worst because literally anybody could have used that toilet and now I was putting myself in direct contact with their possible fecal matter.

I could still smell the cigarette smoke swirling around the room reminding me that Alice was still here whether I could see her or not. I hesitated a slight moment before placing two fingers into my mouth and gently hitting the uvula hanging in the back of my throat. I gagged but nothing came up. I spit the saliva into the toilet. Fuck, this was embarrassing. My eyes watering, I tried again. Nothing, nothing but fucking spit. This wasn't going to work. Alice was a distraction, something to focus on instead of the satisfaction of vomiting.

Defeated, I wiped my hand with some toilet paper, the tears streaming down my face and the nourishment still causing my belly to protrude, gasping for air between sobs. Alice opened the stall door and pulled me into a fierce hug. How did she know this would work, that I wouldn't be able to do it with her in here?

"It's okay Bella. It's okay." She kept saying, over and over again. Lunch was almost over now, and there was no way I was going to be able to ditch Biology, so I pulled away from her and went to the sink to wash my face and hands.

"How did you know that would work?" I asked her, still trying to clean myself up.

"I didn't. But it was worth a shot." Alice already had a new cigarette between her lips and she handed me one as well. We smoked until the bell rang and I popped a peppermint into my mouth before heading to face Edward in Biology. I didn't know which smell I was trying to cover up now, the almost puke or the cigarette. I decided it didn't really matter. Edward was going to find out about everything soon at this rate.

When I walked into the classroom Edward was already at our table. I walked up behind him and wrapped my arms around his lean torso and leaned my head on his back, not caring about the audience that was accumulating, not caring about the smell of cigarettes that surely clung to my hair and clothes. I just wanted to be close to him for a couple of minutes. His hand clasped around my interlaced fingers on his chest and he shifted to put his arm around me, pulling me into his side and kissing my temple. He pulled away to look at me, I'm sure smelling the cigarette smoke.

"You were smoking with Alice, huh?" Edward asked, quietly. I nodded. It was a good excuse and not totally a lie.

Edward smirked, "She thinks I don't know, but come on, it's not really a smell you can hide." He smirked again and brought my hands to his lips, placing little kisses on each finger. It seemed Alice wasn't the only Cullen with the power of perception, making me a little uneasy. What else did he know?

When Mr. Banner walked in to start the class, we separated slightly, our stools still ridiculously close. We never ceased to touch, Edward's hand on my back or in between my knees. After the lecture we completed our assignment together, working well as a team this time and finishing with almost twenty minutes left in the class period. We spent the rest of the time talking about silly things, like infomercials and movies and Edward drew a tiny lowercase 'e' onto my palm with his pen. After class, he walked me to the gym and explained that he had some things to do after school and he would stop by my house later. He kissed me on the forehead, not wanting to incite a riot due to indecently obscene behavior, and walked swiftly to his class. It was the most comfortable experience after the disaster in the restroom and I was peaceful and serene, knowing I would see Edward later that night. And I didn't feel sick again once.

I drove home after school, quiet and introspective. What did all this mean? Initially I wanted to puke. I felt my body trying to quench the desire for emptiness on its own. But after Alice forced me to fight the demands, my body quieted, the compulsion subdued, and my interaction with Edward allowed me to actually forget about the pressure in my stomach. It was progress, to say the least, progress that would allow me to be an equal with Edward, to equally enjoy and equally care.

That night I made Charlie dinner, baked chicken and rice. It was one of the meals on the list that Carlisle had provided. He ate at the kitchen table like a real fucking person. There wasn't any conversation or explanations, but we didn't need it. The actions were enough.

Charlie settled into the couch for the night and I brought him his meds. I cleaned the kitchen, putting away the leftovers and washing and drying the dishes. I was burning time, waiting for Edward to get here. What the hell? Where was he?

Finally, at eleven, I resigned myself to my room. Charlie was in a deep sleep on the couch now, snoring softly while the T.V. cast a soft glow upon the living room. I opened my window, the cool chill of the night air causing the hair on my arms to stand on end, hope of Edward's arrival still lingering in my head. Just as I was about to pull away from the window the headlights of a small car shone in the distance. The silver car came to a stop and parked across the street. Edward climbed out of the Volvo, his eyes immediately on my window, a grin on his lips. I smiled down at him, relieved and anxious to have him close to me. Creeping downstairs, I opened the front door to find him waiting on the porch. He was still in his school clothes and I pulled him by the shirt into the house. I wanted to feel his lips on mine but was afraid Charlie would wake up if we dawdled, so I motioned for him to follow me up to my room.

Once in my room I shut my door with a tiny, satisfying click. I couldn't allow any more time to transpire without at least tasting Edward's sweet mouth. I wrapped my arms around his neck, sucking in his bottom lip. He enveloped me in his arms, his hands running the length of my back, pulling up my shirt and snaking under the hem. His hands, chilled from the night air, caused a shiver to run down my spine as they made contact with the bare skin of my back and sides. Edward's tongue came out to meet mine as he deepened the kiss, kneading and pulsing, his hot breath in my mouth. _"You taste so bitter, bitter and so sweet…"_

I let my hands drop from his neck and brought them to his chest instead, allowing them to glide over the fibrous muscles down to his stomach and letting them linger just above his waistband. His breath caught and his swirling tongue paused when he felt my hands enter this region. He pulled his mouth from mine, gazing into my eyes, begging, asking, pleading…so many emotions showing on his face and flooding from his thick green pools, and I wanted to answer them all with a very emphatic yes. My hands moved to unbutton the silly piece of material keeping my hands from the true sensations they desired. I discarded his shirt, tossing it aside and gazing at the full extent of his upper torso, the stretched skin of his neck and shoulders, his collarbones and shoulder blades tightly wrapped in slightly freckled skin, his chiseled chest covered in a fine layer of dark hair, his pink nipples hard and enticing. I grazed his chest with my hands again, running my fingers over his nipples, his head rolling back and his eyes closing.

He uttered a tiny moan, the only sound voiced from him so far tonight, breaking the silence and sending a shock of energy throughout my entire body. I moved my gaze to his stomach, the depressions of the muscled sections rippled under my fingers as I ran my hands across his belly. I grazed my thumbs down the small trail of hair leading behind his zipper, the rest of my fingertips tracing the V shaped by his pronounced hip bones. He trembled at my touch as I slid my fingertips barely into the waistband of his jockeys sticking out of his jeans. I ran my fingers along the waistband, pulling the undies away from his stomach and my fingers lightly grazed the top of the hair beneath. He was panting now and I pressed my hip into his hard dick, rubbing against it with my body and just dying to shove my hand down his pants to feel it.

"Fuck, Bella. I can't take much more of this." I kissed him deeply again, my fingers still hooked in his waistband, and I pushed him back onto my bed. His hands were still under my shirt and he grabbed my sides and pulled me onto the bed with him, rolling so that I was under him. He pulled away from the kiss, pushing my shirt up to expose my breasts. He gently pulled my nipple into his mouth, his hand palming the other, and licked the hardened flesh a couple of times before moving to my stomach. Edward's lips crawled across my belly, licking and slightly sucking the skin around my belly button, his hands still massaging my breasts, rubbing large circles across my chest and down my sides. He wrapped his arms around my waist, lifting me off the bed and causing my back to arch in an effort to bring the skin of my abdomen closer to his mouth. Fire burned between my legs, heat pulsating in the moisture, as he got closer and closer to the waistband of my pants with his lips, his tongue darting out every so often to taste my skin. I could hardly breathe evenly now and my discretion was quickly evaporating.

"Edward." I pulled his face to mine, whispering into his cheek. "I want you to touch me. Please?" He pulled back, his eyes heavy and craving, his hands still beneath my shirt, rubbing my stomach and grasping my hips. He moved his mouth to my neck, sucking and licking my earlobe while his hands unbuttoned my pants. He slid the pants down my legs and I was praising Buddha I had shaved this morning. His hands slowly trailed down my thighs and up again, one hand resting on the small of my back and the other grabbing my ass with a gentle squeeze, only a thin layer of cotton between his palm and my skin. He pulled back to look into my eyes again, asking for reassurance. I answered by moving my hand to rest on his hard dick against my thigh. He grabbed my ass with eagerness now, sliding his hand across my hip and into my panties and holy hell, when his finger slipped into the crease of my slick pussy, I thought I was going to fucking faint. He continued to just feel everything while still kissing me, his fingers everywhere, grazing my clit and pumping into me, wet and sticky and just getting fully acquainted with my anatomy. It felt so amazing, just having him touch me, his skin connecting with mine, his fingers filling me up, hard and fast and then slow and lingering. My body was a live wire, sparks flying everywhere. I couldn't breathe, my panting causing me to get light headed, but I wanted Edward to feel what I was feeling too, so I gently popped the top button of his fly open.

Edward ceased his fingering, "Bella, that's not a good idea."

"Of course it's a good idea. It's a fucking phenomenal idea, I guarantee it." I kissed his lips again, slowing unzipping his pants.

"Bella, stop. What if I can't control myself? It might be too much." Edward looked away from my face, shame in admitting this lack of restraint.

"It's okay, Edward. Let's just see what happens. You'll never know if you don't try." It was trite and cliché, but I wanted to get him off. I wanted him to fall apart in my hands, feel the power of his arousal coursing through his body, culminating in hard throbs against my palms and straining against my grip, and I wanted to know that I was the one in control of his pleasure.

I brought my hand to his face, running my finger across his lip before pressing my lips to his and sliding my tongue into his mouth. His fingers resumed in their wonderings and his moans matched mine as I slowly reached into his jockeys and grasped his cock tightly, pumping it hard. He pulled his mouth away from mine and pressed his head into my shoulder, his fingers fucking the hell out of me now. I was eager to climax but wanted to give Edward the same attention he had given me, so I pulled and pushed, sensual and hard, using both my hands to feel every inch of him, sliding my hands over his stomach and the mass of skin below the shaft, just hoping he was enjoying this as much as I was.

He moaned again, the sound alone causing little sparks of pleasure crawling over my skin, as his fingers worked ferociously. I took this as a sign to move my own hands in pace with his, using the momentum building in my own body to fuel my actions, while my mind chanted more more more. I stroked him furiously, his dick twitching a few times in anticipation of his climax. I slid one of my own hands down to feel his fingers pumping into me, bringing some of the natural lubrication back to coat his dick. His head sprang up then and he looked at me intensely, wide-eyed and surprised, before ejaculating into my hands and all over his belly and mine. I continued to rub over his dick, mixing the fluids and causing him to shudder into my shoulder as he brought his head back down and his clenched eyes relaxed. Resolved to equal my efforts, he moved his thumb over my clit, pushing up my shirt and once again taking my nipple into his mouth, gently grazing it with his teeth. This fucking did it and I exploded, convulsions pulsing through my body, my fingers and toes tingling and buzzing with electricity.

We laid there for a few moments, just messy as all hell and reveling in our mutual ecstasy. Edward turned toward me and placed a small kiss on the tip of my nose before silently leaving the room to clean up. I struggled to stay awake while I waited for my turn in the bathroom.

When I returned from cleaning up, he was sitting on the edge of my bed, his nimble fingers swiftly fastening the buttons of his shirt around him. I lingered in the door frame, watching him get dressed, and then running his fingers through his hair. I didn't deserve him, his food, his nurturing, his fucking fingers. I didn't deserve any of it. I wanted to run from this room, hiding myself from him, because when he found out what I was he would surely hate me. He would hate me for the lies, disgusted by my compulsion. He wouldn't be able to touch me like that anymore, or kiss my hands, my fingers, my mouth, knowing where they had been and what atrocities I had used them for. He would hurt and I would be the cause. This realization caused the ever present tears to once again cause a choking in my throat and a blurring of my vision. I couldn't let that happen. I couldn't be the cause of his anguish, but I couldn't be apart from him either, my very soul a gaping divot when he was away from me.

Edward sensed my presence and looked up at me, smiling and a little embarrassed, and I had to rush to him. I hit him hard with my body, almost knocking him off the bed, and curled into his lap, clutching him as silent tears soaked into his shirt. He held me in silence, his hands running through my hair and I could have fallen asleep, right there in his arms, making me yearn for the day when I could sleep next to Edward. I wasn't sure what he thought the motivation for this emotional outpouring was, but I let him make his own conclusions, my tears eventually ceasing and the tingles on my scalp from Edward's fingers in my hair a lullaby calming me to a near slumber. _"While the song that he sang her, to soothe her to sleep, runs all through her circuits like a heartbeat…"_

I walked him to his car when it was time for him to leave. The cool mist of early morning was settling on the town and I shivered as he pulled me into his warmth. He kissed my neck and jaw a few times before looking into my eyes, his all green and sparkling.

"Bella, will you go out with me?" His voice was genuinely inquisitive and I giggled softly at the purity of his request.

"What, like on a date?" I smiled, consumed with giddiness at this idea.

He nodded, a sly smile creeping into his face.

"Hmmm, I'll have to think about it," I teased.

"Really?" he asked in mock surprise. "Well, if you're unsure I could always ask Jessica Stanley."

I scoffed, "Ew, gross. Don't even joke like that." I shoved him away.

Edward caught my hand and pulled me back to him. "Please, Bella. Will you go on a date with me?" He kissed my cheek and my chin and finally my lips, persuasion in every press.

"Okay," I conceded, breathlessly. I would do anything for this boy. Edward Cullen owned me, body and soul.

…

**A/N**

Good, clean fun!!! Well, maybe not clean... A little bit of something from Charlie too! And Alice, ah, Alice my girl...I love her, seriously LOVE her...

Joni Songs referenced:

Electricity

Case of You

Free Man in Paris

My Old Man

Willie

Edward's fingers make me think of magical things... Review my dears!!


	10. And She Prayed Aloud for Love to Waken

**Darlings,**

**And now through Edward's eyes...**

This is a fricking long ass chapter so I had to include an equally long ass A/N, scroll down if you don't give a shit...

So, here come the thank you's and I'm feeling all gooey this week, so they might be gratuitous.

Readers, my dear readers, and all you new lovelies, thank you for kind words! It's like a warm chord, stay and play baby! (That's a little Joni reference for you, because we don't get much with EPOV)

**Amers52**, for your help with the psychological matter, thank you for your expertise!

**Anechka86**, over at the gazebo on LJ, thank you for rec'ing this fic and for offering me a place in you're community! And **yeahyeah143**, another LJ pal, your support is divine...

For one doosey of a rec, deary and quite possibly the best reviewer of all time, **Starrynytex**, I thank you so much and bow down to your inhumanly quick updates. You are a machine, my lady!

And of course, my choice for president and my partner in big mouthed bitchiness, beta goddess **n7of9**...you get lots of gratuitous love today bb, because I just saw vag liquification on your LJ. Let's just take over urban dictionary...and the country...and eventually the planet, all while wearing stilletos...

And my husband, who thinks it's weird that I think like a 17 year old boy...

I think I've forgotten this like the last two times I've posted: It's not muuhhnnn...(This is how Bill says _Mine_ on True Blood, in case you're looking for a pronunciation)

**CH. 10 **_**"And she prayed aloud for love to waken in his face."**_

**EPOV**

Fuck! I quickly brought my finger to my mouth, sucking the sanguine substance from the small fissure in the digit. I had neglected to sharpen my knife before slicing into the deep purple eggplant on the counter before me, causing the dull blade to slip on the waxy surface of the vegetable and nick my skin. There was way more blood than necessary spilling from the shallow wound and I quickly tried to stifle the flow. I grabbed a paper towel, wrapped my finger tightly and applied pressure to the cut, the red fluid seeping into the absorbency of the paper. Yeah, living with a doctor has its advantages - I've got excellent first aid skills. I ran upstairs to get a small band-aid from the medicine cabinet on the second floor.

I had woken up this morning reliving the last two days, my dick completely hard and fucking screaming for relief. Bella Swan had totally fucked me over. Normal porn wouldn't do anymore, not after seeing Bella come like that, not after seeing her riding my dick through my jeans in that fucking black tank top, her insistent hands pulling my mouth onto her breasts. That had to be one of the sexiest things I'd ever seen. These were the thoughts imaging through my mind as I found relief in self gratification, fucking jerking it in the shower to the memory of Bella on the roof.

As I got dressed I saw Bella's car keys on my dresser. Yeah, I swiped that shit from her nightstand this morning. Her truck was still parked in front of Newton's house and this bothered me tremendously, like he had some claim on her because her car graced his street. I wanted that truck on my street, in front of my house, demonstrating to the entire neighborhood that Bella belonged with me and not douchebag Mike Newton. When I had heard Carlisle tell Esme that he was going to check on Charlie, I knew it would be the perfect opportunity to surprise Bella with her truck. If it couldn't be parked in front of my house then it should at least be parked in front of hers.

I quickly fastened the sticky strip along the break in the skin and stopped at Alice's bedroom door to see if I could commission her vehicle operating services.

"Alice?" I asked as I approached her bedroom. She was lying on her stomach on her bed, a long white gauze skirt tucked around her legs and her large astrology book in front of her. She was furiously scribbling down something and looked fully engrossed in her writing.

I walked into her cluttered room. She had shit everywhere, books and papers covered in scrawled notes, big floppy hats and colorful scarves, woven scraps of silky material and numerous sewing patterns. I picked up one of the papers to read and Alice snatched it out of my hand.

"Not your business. What's up?" I looked at Alice as she hurried to pick up the remainder of the papers. Alice was hiding something.

"What are you doing?" I asked her suspiciously. I walked to sit on her bed, to see what she had been scribbling so furiously.

"Nothing," she said, shrugging her shoulders and messing with her midnight hair.

I snorted at her response. It was so blatantly obvious she was being secretive. Since Alice and I usually didn't have secrets, her stealthy attempt to divert attention from her activities caused me to become suspicious.

She tilted her head to the side and glared at me in response to my sardonic snort. "You have a lot of nerve, you know."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I was taken aback by her accusation. I couldn't place an incident that would warrant such irritability.

"You know what it means. Did you honestly think you could disappear for hours last night and nobody would notice?" Alice had her hands on her hips now, a smug satisfaction just glowing around her. Curse her natural inclination for tricky sapience! Not only had she diverted attention from her own secrecy but she exposed me for the hypocrite I was. Fuck.

I didn't know what to say. I didn't want to go into this right now but I knew Alice would berate me into giving her some details.

"Yes. I thought that is exactly what would happen," I told her, remembering that I needed a favor from her and should try not to piss her off too much.

"I know you were with Bella anyways. I mean, first you like her like cooking, then you make her crepes and then sneak out and don't return until the wee hours of the morning. You're obviously smitten with the girl." Alice grinned at me like a motherfucker, an all-knowing annoying as shit because she's always right motherfucker.

I didn't say anything, just stood there gaping at her, a look between detestable and incredulous brewing on my brow, I'm sure.

"It's okay, Edward, you're allowed to be happy. I know you don't think you deserve this or whatever. I know you're afraid of…that minute possibility…of what could happen, but have you ever thought that it could happen to me too? I mean, we sprang from the same DNA, I'm just as susceptible as you are." She sat down on the bed beside me now. I had thought of all of this, it's why I didn't want her smoking or drinking, but I hadn't ever _really_ given much credence to it. Alice was full of life and vitality, energy pouring out of her very being. She has never shown any signs or symptoms whatsoever. She has always been a free soul, a positive life force that I can't fathom this disease snuffing out. But her words were absolutely true, despite my idealistic perceptions. This shit killed me. If anything ever happened to her…if she ever hurt someone else…it would destroy everyone, and destroy the last thread of hope that I had in this world.

"I know. It's so many levels of fucked up, Alice. I would never let anything…bad happen. As long as I'm able, I'll take care of things," I said, sitting on her bed. As long as I'm not completely fucking drowning in my own psychosis, that is.

"No, Edward, that's not what I'm trying to say. I'm not your responsibility. You can't spend your life worrying about this shit. Whatever is going to happen, will happen. Until then, I'm going to fucking live. I'm going to fall in love and I'm going to smoke if I want to and make mistakes and just fucking live, Edward. I want that for you too. It kills me to see you wasting your time on worry," Alice said, taking my hand and giving it a squeeze.

The worry was very much ingrained in my entire being now. I had been worrying for so long, long before I came to Forks when I was still living in that house with him, my father, constantly worrying if it would be a headache day. That's how my mother used to explain it to us. Dad had a "headache". This was code for 'lock yourself in your room'. He never had a chance to physically hurt me or Alice, my mother had been decent about his episodes, but he'd do shit, fucking weird-ass shit that I should have seen as off, that I should have investigated further. Even at ten years old I knew there was something bizarre about the way he dealt with his "headaches".

I was back in that room, sitting on my twin bed, the comforter covered in old war airplanes. It was July and the air sagged with humidity. It was almost bed time and I had a killer scenario playing out, the little green plastic soldiers lined up strategically along my bed. I was about to maneuver the troops in an offensive stride toward world domination when something slammed into my bedroom door. I could hear the yelling, my mother screaming her pleas, pathetically begging for him to stop. I jolted out of my fantasy and scrambled off the bed. The door knob moved violently, the screws whining in protest and scraping against the metal of the latch. Panic coursed through my veins, causing my hair to stand on end and my stomach to churn, the bile rising in my throat as I looked for somewhere to hide. I quickly slid underneath my bed, pulling off the comforter and using it to camouflage my hiding place.

I heard the splintering of wood, the latch cracking and groaning under the pressure. They were inside now, the pounding of their feet on the wooden floor, and every step reverberating in my body as I lay smothered and sweating under the bed. I heard muttering in a low voice, my father's voice, but I couldn't quite make out what he was saying, something about "devil's turning the boy". My mother's sobs were drowning him out and I could feel her light, frantic steps on the flooring desperately dancing around, trying to corral him out of the room, but it was no use. There was a thunderous crash and I felt the floor shudder beneath me, a variety of small items scattering across the wood and bouncing off the baseboards. I uncovered my face and could see an ocean of marbles casually rolling around, a glittering jade ball of glass turning black as it rolled towards my hiding spot and out of the sparkling sunlight.

My mother was calling my name, or his, I could never tell, but her constant cries of _Edward, where are you?_ were appropriate either way. My father was gone, lost in his "headache", and she was desperately trying to call him back to her. I felt a soft thump on the boards beneath me, watching my mother's knees hit the floor from behind the dust ruffle, her full skirt ballooning around her as she collapsed into herself.

There was a sudden thud causing me to startle and slightly hit my head on the box spring above me. And then another. And another. The ripping of paper and the breaking of drywall collided with the muttering of words I didn't understand, my mother crumbled on the floor and just fucking waiting for him to finish, and me under that goddamn bed, suffocating in a comforter in the middle of July.

He had carved out half the fucking wall by the time he was finished. Then he curled up in my mom's lap fucking crying like a baby while she stroked his hair and kissed his head. He kissed her fingers and apologized while scrunching the material of her gauzy skirt to his face and sobbing in silent shudders. I had witnessed it all from underneath that bed.

Alice's hand squeezed mine, reminding me that I had a task to do and couldn't sit here all day reminiscing about the reasons why I'm so fucked. Alice was still pleading with me, holding my hand in a flowing gauze skirt, the similarities between her and my mother rich in recollection and a sick, torturous reminder of that evening spent hiding.

"I know, Alice." I pulled my hand away from her and stood up, stepping over piles of books and papers. "I'm trying. Bella's making it easier." I smiled, giving her an appeasing answer, something that I hoped would get her to shut up yet gave her the sense that she got everything that I was going to give.

"Don't try, Edward. Do it." Alice was being totally serious and I don't even think she knew she had just roughly quoted the best movie of all time.

"Sure thing, Master Yoda," I teased. She rolled her eyes, pulling at a thread on the comforter on her bed.

I cleared my throat, trying to think of a way to phrase this without Alice thinking I was total tool.

"So, um, Bella's car is still at Newton's…"

"And you want to go get it for her." Alice grinned knowingly, implication seeping into her intuition. "Man, you got it bad for that girl."

"Alright, alright! Can you just bring my damn car home so I can take her her truck?" I asked, needing to get back to the eggplant. "I guess I should call Carlisle and tell him to wait for me so I have a ride home."

"I'll call him. I need to ask Bella a question anyway." Alice moved to get the phone. "Do you know her number?"

Alice's question struck a chord of unease as I hesitated in answering. I _didn't_ know Bella's phone number. Sure, I'd fucking sucked her tit, but I didn't have her phone number. This made me feel disoriented, anxiety pressing heavily on my chest and fogging up my brain. I couldn't even get a hold of her if I needed to, the thought stifling and uncomfortable.

Motivated by my facial expression, Alice continued, "No problem, I bet Esme has Charlie's number in her phone book."

Right, Charlie's number. The vice on my chest lessened at this reminder. I found the oxygen necessary to speak once again. "We'll leave in fifteen," I mumbled.

I went back to the kitchen and finished chopping the eggplant into thick slices, then whisked the olive oil and balsamic vinegar for the marinade. I crushed two cloves of garlic with the flat edge of my knife, releasing the aroma into the air and after removing the skin, minced the garlic and combined it with the liquid. I then added the spices, thyme, basil, dill and oregano, stopping to smell each one before pinching a portion into the bowl. Whisking the mixture a couple more times, I covered the bowl with plastic wrap and left it on the counter.

Alice was pensive as I drove to Mike Newton's house. She was gazing out the window, into the gray quiet of late Sunday morning. She silently slid into the driver's seat of the Volvo as I quickly commandeered the monstrous truck. I hesitated in starting the ignition, the gentle quiet of the neighborhood about to be interrupted by the thundering of this archaic conveyance. I started the engine and the truck shuddered to life. Struggling to get the bitch into gear, I stalled that shit twice. Fuck! How did Bella drive this thing?

Finally getting the feel for the way this truck operated, I maneuvered the streets of Forks until I found myself in front of Bella's house. I wanted to go to her, to stay with her all day, talking and reveling in her endearing mannerisms, like the way she pouted when she didn't get her way, her bottom lip jutting out and her eyebrows converging in a most charming crease. I wanted her to invade every one of my senses, an overload of sensory enticement, intent on dominating my apprehension.

But as soon as I pulled up, the loud screeching made everyone within a five mile radius aware that I was approaching and Carlisle was already traipsing down the walkway ready to leave. I ran the keys to the house, placing them on the table just inside the front door, just fucking begging I didn't run into Charlie. I closed the door silently so he wouldn't be summoned and ran back to Carlisle's car. I looked to Bella's window for some sort of validation and was rewarded with a curious face in the frame. It killed me to just leave without explanation.

I did not, however, want to have to explain anything to my uncle, so I just got into the passenger seat of his black Mercedes. Alice must have given him a decent excuse because Carlisle didn't ask how I got Bella's keys or why I would go out of my way to bring her truck home. He just drove in silence, occasionally singing along with the classics rocking on the radio. I was anxious to get home, intent on redemption for my aloofness in the form of grilled eggplant sandwiches.

…

I woke up early Monday morning so I could heat my redemption offering. I assembled the sandwiches, mixing the already prepared grilled eggplant and roasted red peppers with the marinara sauce. I placed the provolone cheese slices into the fold of the roll so that the bread wouldn't get too soggy and spooned the eggplant mixture into the roll. After the sandwiches were toasted I wrapped them in foil and threw them in a bag. They really were best hot and fresh out of the oven, but this would have to suffice.

As I showered and readied myself for school I appraised my injuries. The stitches were fucking itching like crazy so I removed them from my cheek using Alice's scissors and tweezers from her makeup bag on the counter. I maybe could have waited a couple more days but they were irritating as all shit, so I carefully cut each stitch at the knot, pulling the thread with the tweezers and swabbing the area with alcohol. There was only a trace amount of blood, so I covered the wound with a small bandage.

The bruises were almost gone now and the scab on my lip had been removed by all the extra activity it was getting as of late. It still hurt like hell to physically exert myself but I no longer needed the painkillers, the ache in my side a welcome distraction to the more pressing and ever increasing obsessive need I was now forced to confront. I was terrified to admit that I needed Bella. I needed her smell, her approval, her touch…I just needed _her_, her very essence soothing that ticking bomb, fooling me into a false sense of security and normalcy. The pain was a reminder that the bomb was there, quieted for now, and I'd be an idiot to forget that.

Alice and I left for school a tad earlier than normal. Yeah, I was fucking anxious as shit to see Bella. I hadn't seen her in over twenty-four hours and I was having withdrawals. I was impatient to get to school, to run my fingers through her thick hair. I loved that shit because I knew she loved it, the proof evident in her goosebumps and shivers.

Bella's car wasn't in the parking lot when we arrived on campus. Alice turned to look at me before exiting the vehicle. "You're going to wait for her, huh?" she asked.

"Yeah," I replied, slightly embarrassed but too anxious to give a shit.

Alice got out of the car, shaking her know-it-all head and chuckling to herself. She disappeared onto campus and I was left alone with my anxiety. I watched in the rear view mirror, waiting to catch a glimpse of the old red truck with my brown-eyed girl.

I heard it before I actually saw it, the beast, as I was now going to lovingly refer to it. Roaring into the parking lot, Bella parked her truck a couple of spaces from mine. I watched her from my seat, leaning against the steering wheel, and I was about to go to her when I saw fucking Jasper swaggering up to her truck. What the fuck is this shit?

Bella rolled down the window and Jasper casually leaned onto the frame, his hands falling inside the vehicle. Motherfucker! I didn't want to jump to conclusions but Jasper only had a couple of reasons to be interacting with Bella in this manner and I couldn't see any of them being beneficial. I wanted to fucking knock his face in.

The longer he lingered at her window the stronger the compulsion grew. I could feel the adrenaline pumping in my blood, causing my brain to pound with energy, thump, thump, thump. A rhythm that kept pace with my heart, which was now bursting with intensity, the fear swelling in my chest, and I felt sure I would explode if he didn't get off her fucking door. I struggled to breathe through my nose, inhale, exhale, shaky breaths that filled my chest with disgust, unable to unclench my jaw, my teeth painfully ground together. My fingers started to tingle, twitching into clenched fists, my nails digging into my palms and throbbing for absolution, and I yearned for the fucking discharge of energy. I wanted the contact of fist to flesh, barbaric and raw, protecting that fragile being from the fucking onslaught of malfeasance I could only imagine spewing forth from Jasper's mouth. I sat in my car fucking buzzing with outrage and needing a distraction so I wouldn't let my body take control. Fighting against my own head, I gripped the steering wheel, an attachment to physically keep me in the car.

The urge overwhelmed and I couldn't rein it in anymore. I opened the door and got out of my car only to see Jasper leaving Bella's window. I felt like following him, pushing him into a wall or something, but my desire to see Bella smothered my desire to fuck his shit up. I had to touch her now, the urgency compounding, and I needed that cathartic release to ease the disdain of seeing Jasper hanging on her window frame.

Bella was getting out of her truck, her tote bag slung across her shoulder, when I collided with her, my every particle longing for that connection of cosmically charged energy. The instant her body met mine the energy was dispersed, transferred, and I knew that she was now carrying some of the weight of my compulsion. Guilt and relief flooded into my being, disgusted with myself for allowing the transfer to take place yet relieved at the lessening of the heaviness and euphoric at the encumbrance of her body seamed to mine.

"Shit!" she cursed, and I fused myself to her, locking my arms around her waist and just inhaling her, natural and lavender, like I hadn't been breathing. Her chocolate pools absorbed me in ocular liquification before my gaze drifted to her tongue pulling across her sly grin. Fuck. That mouth sang to me, pulling me to it, and I fought the urge to just glue myself to her face. Instead, I gently placed my lips to hers, still not releasing her.

"Hi." Really, it was all I could think of.

"Hey," she responded, bringing her hand to my chest, and I reveled in the no longer absent touch. Her other hand slid up my neck, kneading the muscle below my hairline, and it felt so fucking good, just fucking delightful to have that tension released. I closed my eyes and couldn't help but smile at her caress.

Unexpectedly, her hand turned forceful and I found myself being pulled to her, her tongue flicking out to lick my lip and causing an influx of endorphins to explode out of my carefully controlled demeanor. Her mouth was on mine now and I couldn't control my body, my mouth moving with hers, tongues all twisting and pulsing, and I needed her closer still. I clutched the first thing I could, her soft hair running down her back, and used it to pull her into my chest, engulfing her, one hand coming up to bring her mouth closer to me, inhaling and pulling her closer and closer until she tried to pull away.

No! My mind screamed in protest and my grip on her face and hair tightened, refusing to let her pull from my grasp, the power of control hardening my dick and fucking with my mind. What the fuck is my problem?

Bella groaned into my mouth, her pleasure dissipating my self-disgust. She liked this, this made her feel good? Confusion tainted my resolve and the shock of her display allowed me to release her. I searched her face, looking for fear, disgust, rejection, finding only lust and enticement in her flushed and swollen expression. _My sweet girl, you are a marvel I am dying to explore._

I brought my hands to her face, trying to force calm into my being, and placed a small kiss on her lips and then one on the tip on her narrow nose, trying to make up for the vicious attack of a kiss just moments before.

"Fuck Bella, I don't know if we can do this in public. We might get arrested. I mean, that had to be obscenely indecent." Indecent in so many ways I didn't even want to begin to consider. I gently pulled her into me, still trying to silently apologize.

"Hmm, obscenely indecent, huh? Yeah, that's awesome," she responded, causing me to chuckle in panic. If she only knew what was reeling through my mind during that kiss, she'd freak out, probably run away screaming. I had to make it right, show her the respect I felt. I pulled away, opting to place my arm around her shoulders instead.

"May I walk you to class, Miss Swan?" I asked, trying to be a gentleman and shit, which is fucking difficult to do with a raging boner.

"Of course. If you didn't, I'd be wicked pissed," she responded, making light of my exhibit and bringing a grin to my lips. I walked her to her class, English, and I couldn't deny that people were staring. The town freak and the new girl were causing quite a stir in fucking supercilious Forks. Bella just acted like it didn't bother her at all. I was fascinated by these little tidbits of information that I was learning about her, like what classes she had and that she was brave in the face of ridicule.

Bella was even brave when we encountered fucking Stanley and her clan of fake-ass bitches. Even as they muttered insults, she just trudged on, acceptance and even humor evident in her carriage. I mean, it was impressive. I thought girls were supposed to be all self-conscious about this shit. I wanted to punch each of them in the face, cause real physical harm, but Bella just ignored their stupid remarks.

After making sure she'd be okay I kissed her forehead goodbye, still worried about the creepy possessive kiss making a comeback. I mean, what the fuck? It was like an impulse I couldn't control, the need to have her close to me, and when it was threatened my whole being fought back, the only relief seeming to be contact with Bella, the very trigger for the urge. I had to admit, this scared the shit out of me, but I obviously enjoyed her company too much to actually do anything about it.

…

I was so fucking excited for lunch. I really wasn't even hungry but I couldn't wait to offer Bella my redemption sandwich, especially now after the morning creepy kiss. I waited for her outside the lunch room and I greeted her by kissing her wrist, inhaling the scent as I placed a small kiss on the distended bone before pulling her into my arms.

"How was your morning?" I asked her, dying to kiss her lips but opting for her jaw instead. Her skin here was so soft, reminding me of her skin elsewhere in a more concealed place, skin that only I currently had access to, skin that I longed to pull into my mouth and taste.

"Horribly dull. And yours?" she responded breathlessly.

"Getting better," I whispered, my lips still on her jaw, struggling to pull away before my impulses took over. The eggplant sandwiches invaded, giving me the strength to control my urge to feel her up right there outside the lunch room. I moved the hair from her face instead.

"Hungry?" I asked, hoping she liked eggplant. It's kind of an acquired taste, but everyone in my family liked my sandwiches. We walked into the lunch room, Emmett and Rose already waiting at a table. I had kind of fallen into the habit of bringing them lunch. Sometimes Emmett brought leftovers from dinner, sometimes I made new stuff especially for lunch. Cafeteria food really was terrible and it didn't really make sense for me to make just enough for myself. It was just as easy to make a shitload and share.

I explained to Bella the lunch I had prepared as we walked to the table, pulling the bag from my backpack. She seemed a little apprehensive but hopefully that would be assuaged when she tasted my creation.

Emmett grinned as we approached and made some smartass comment and Bella responded with equal banter, but I didn't hear their conversation. The look on Rosalie's face as we approached distracted me from paying attention. Rose was going to start some shit. I'd seen that look in her eye before, she was prepared to rip Bella to pieces, seeking retribution for me ditching them at the party.

"I guess it's pretty easy to bounce back when you have prince charming rescuing you all the time, huh?" I heard Rosalie say. Yep, seeking retribution. Bitch.

"Shut it, Rose," I said, intent on squashing this shit quickly before Rose got the upper hand. I knew the shit that could fly out of her mouth when she sensed weakness. But she continued.

"What? I'm just saying, if you can't hold your liquor you shouldn't drink. And you shouldn't climb walls if you can't walk in a straight line. It's all very damsel in distress, isn't it now?" Rose's tone of voice was sickly sweet, but I knew the implication behind the words and I did not want her to fucking ruin my retribution offering.

"Fuck, Rose. Do you have to-" I was going to say "be such a fucking cunt" but luckily Bella interrupted because I firmly believe Emmett, and probably Rose herself, would have kicked my ass for that remark.

Bella surprised the shit out of me, again, for like the tenth time today. "No, Edward. She's right." She turned to address Rose now. "I acted like a total idiot. I drank too much, I smoked too much, and I made dumb decisions. It was very foolish and I'm lucky Edward was there to help me."

I had to laugh because I doubted Rosalie had ever been spoken to like that before. She'd been cursed at, yelled at, flipped off, and even shoved in the hall. But she'd never been given a dose of her own passive aggressive, kill 'em with kindness crap. My adoration for Bella just fucking beamed knowing that she had Rose pegged and that she knew how to put her in her place.

Alice finally showed and I passed out the sandwiches. Bella took hers, unwrapping it and picking up half the sandwich. She didn't look as hesitant as she had with the crepes and when she took her first bite I was able to ease into conversation. Bella and Alice left to use the restroom so I walked to class alone, waiting at the lab table for Bella.

I was deep in thought planning on pasta for dinner when I felt two thin arms wrap around my waist, a pair of familiar hands interlacing at my middle, and I felt Bella lay her head between my shoulder blades. I reached around to pull her to my side expecting sweet lavender but was hit with tobacco instead, the earthy musk filling my lungs. She'd been smoking with Alice. I knew Alice smoked, I mean come on, the "walks", the pink lighter that she said was in case of global catastrophe, and the smell. I mean shit, I am a connoisseur of aromas. Did she really think I wouldn't smell that shit on her?

I really wasn't surprised that Bella was smoking with her, but I wasn't really thrilled either. It made her smell funny, not my Bella smell, but someone else's, reminding me that I might not be the only thing out there that wanted to claim Bella. This habit, smoking and drinking, it might have a hold on her too, and I just couldn't have that. Like I said, I didn't want to share.

"You were smoking with Alice, huh?" I asked her, hoping she'd be honest and rewarded when she nodded. "She thinks I don't know, but come on, it's not a smell you can hide."

I decided to let it go, hoping that this was something that might disappear as our relationship grew and it wasn't worth wasting one minute in discourse with Bella. I kissed her fingers to let her know that I wasn't planning on a lecture today.

The rest of the class period flew by and I couldn't keep my hands to myself, like some prehistoric mating ritual, I wanted to make my claim on her evident to all the others in the classroom. I even fucking marked her, a goddamn 'e' on her palm, etched with my pen. It was so fucking ridiculous but I just couldn't help myself. I had to go grocery shopping after school so I told her I would see her later that night and anticipated the meeting with all my being.

After school I went to the market, getting the ingredients for dinner. I decided on a Pasta Primavera, throwing the necessary ingredients into my basket, the vegetables green and refreshing next to the rich heaviness of the cream and parmesan.

When I got home I cooked the dish and served dinner to my family, packaging the leftovers for tomorrow's lunch. I found myself making dishes that excluded meats because I faintly remember Rose had said something about Bella being a vegetarian. Bella hadn't told me herself, but I adhered just in case.

It was past nine by the time dinner was finished. We had to wait for Carlisle to get home and Emmett to get out of practice and Alice was gone after school for, like, four hours doing God only knows what. She said she had stayed after with a math tutor and then went for a hike, but come on, who the hell did she think she was fooling? Something was up. Between the secretive shit she pulled yesterday and her sudden interest in physical activity, she was withholding information and that fucking pissed me off. If the roles were reversed she'd be all over my ass with her incessant questioning and tarot card shit.

I was ready to go see Bella and I wondered how I should approach the situation with my uncle. I didn't want to be sneaking around like what we were doing was bad because it wasn't. It was good, very fucking good, but I did not want to explain that to Carlisle. I went up to Carlisle's office to tell him where I was going. I didn't think he would mind, he'd always been persistent in his endeavors to get me to socialize. Apparently it's important for kids like me to have friends and shit and I doubted Carlisle would deny me this opportunity to engage in a social interaction, especially on my own volition. Still, I was slightly apprehensive that he would deny my request because then I would have to fucking sneak out.

Just as I reached the landing my uncle stepped out of his office. "Edward! I was just going to find you. May I speak with you for a moment?" Carlisle was acting strange, all formal and shit, like I was one of his patients or something. This couldn't be good.

I walked into his office like a fucking five year old. He motioned for me to sit on the ocher chenille couch while he took a seat in one of the brown leather smoking chairs. I leaned over to rest my elbows on my thighs, folding my hands between my knees. Carlisle crossed his legs, bringing his hand to support his chin and looked at me appraisingly, obviously not knowing where to begin. We sat there for, like, five minutes in silence before Carlisle spoke.

"Emmett has mentioned that you've been spending some time with Alice's friend, Bella Swan." He was acting like he didn't know what was going on. I mean, fuck, he went to medical school, he could figure this shit out.

"Carlisle, yeah, I've been seeing Bella. We're kind of dating." Were we…dating? I hadn't really taken her out on a _date_. I mean, I would willingly drown in the fiery rivers of hell for her and I let her rub up on my dick, but dinner, nope. God, I am a complete asshole.

"Well, I would like to know what your intentions are. Charlie Swan is a good friend and his daughter is important to him." Carlisle was looking at his own hands now, knowing the truth behind that statement. He wanted to know if I was fucking her or if it was more. Shit, I didn't know how to explain this.

"I'm not…sleeping with Bella, Carlisle," I said honestly. "We just enjoy each other's company. We're hanging out and talking and stuff. I don't know." I shrugged because I really didn't know.

I knew that I couldn't be without Bella. I knew that I was weirdly compelled to be near her, her mass drawing me in, magnetically charged and electric in our connection. She was my binary star, my symbiotic match, formed from the same fabric. But that sounded insane, right? Definitely not something you should tell a doctor, the fear of those mind numbing drugs inhibiting my honesty.

"How long has this been going on? Since she got here?" Carlisle asked, eyeing me curiously.

"Yeah, I guess. I met her at the market last Monday, I think." I looked down because the minute the words were out of my mouth I knew he was going to make the connection.

"She's the girl. The memorable one?" There it was. Click, Carlisle, motherfucking click.

"Um, yeah." I was still looking down at my hands, remembering them on Bella's skin. The impulse was beginning to creep up again and agitation was burning in my gut. It was getting late and Bella was expecting me to come over. I did not want to be responsible for disappointing her.

"Ah. And the fighting?" Carlisle was going to ask it all tonight. I knew we were in for a long conversation. I was going to be fucking late.

…

I ran every red light driving to Bella's that night, my conversation with Carlisle still burning in my brain. The fucking sex talk. Oh my God, the torture, having to explain to Carlisle that I already knew how sex worked. I mean, I'm fucking seventeen and I have internet access and nobody is more knowledgeable about sex than a seventeen-year-old male with internet access. He asked me if I masturbated and I had to tell him 'frequently', because it was the truth. He asked me if I was still a virgin and I had to tell him the truth here also. Then he started talking about women and their anatomy, their fucking reproductive cycle and how they got pregnant, not that I didn't know all of this as well, thanks to my fifth grade sex ed teacher.

Then he wanted to talk about Bella. He wanted to know the extent of our relationship, was I planning on dating her or having a physical relationship with her, and if I did, to use precaution in the form of prophylactics. He even gave me a box of condoms, newly purchased for this special occasion.

However, at the end, when I was crawling in my skin trying to get out of there and over to Bella's, Carlisle said something that made me listen intently. He said I should take Bella on a date and that girls like flowers, that he didn't know why because flowers just die and make a huge mess, but that if I was serious about Bella, I should be a gentleman. He also said I should be honest with her about my parents.

The thought of discussing my parents with Bella made me nauseous because I was going to have to explain to her the possibilities in store for me as well, and that shit would freak anyone out. I mean, this thing was just developing and I was going to hit her with all this fucking family drama. I planned to tell her because it was only fair, seeing as how her safety could be in danger, just _not yet_. I just wanted to enjoy this thing with Bella a little bit longer.

I pulled up in front of Bella's house to find her looking out her bedroom window, all Shakespearean and shit. I didn't even bother pulling in the driveway or turning around to park on her side of the street. I just pulled over and parked, anxiety welling in my every movement as I got out of the car and walked across the street. She met me at the front door again, pulling me silently by my shirt into the house. Charlie was in the living room, the glow from the TV streaming into the foyer. I figured he must still be drugged up but I crept past the doorway regardless and followed Bella up the stairs. She was still in her school clothes, her jeans caressing her sweet little behind, and I swear she put an extra little twist in her hips because she knew I was looking. I was struggling to keep my hands to myself as she led me to her room, just like before. God, I hoped this was going to turn into a habit.

Bella closed her bedroom door when we were inside and once the metal of the latch secured closed with a telling click, the intensity of the magnetic pull forced us together. I drank her in, urgently sliding my hands underneath her shirt making contact with the skin of her lower back and sides, right below her ribcage, the bones causing little ripples on her tight skin. I touched her tongue with mine, sinking into her mouth and breathing her in so deep the influx of oxygen made me euphoric.

Bella pulled her hands from my neck and trailed them across my chest and stomach to my fucking waistband and I pulled away to look at her face. What was she doing? She began to unbutton my shirt and I let her take it off, her hands and eyes roaming my torso and God, her hands felt so amazing, I closed my eyes to allow my sense of touch to fully absorb the feeling. I groaned into the silence when her fingers grazed my nipples because, quite honestly, they'd never been touched by anyone like this, the sensation was quite overwhelming, heightening my arousal and sending those familiar fluids surging, making my cock just fucking swell.

Bella continued to trace the lines of my stomach, moving to my hips and causing my body to seriously fucking shake the closer she got to my crotch. Then, because apparently Bella likes surprises, she slid her fingers into my underwear, just underneath the waistband, and pressed her hip into my dick, causing that intense need to spring from the desire coiled deep in my being. The need was raging now, surging through every vein and seeping from every pore in my body. I wanted her badly, wanted her naked, wanted her enveloping my dick in whatever fashion possible. I needed to feel her skin on mine, to connect with her on this primal and guttural level. It was becoming uncontrollable, suffocating reason and destroying my self control.

"Fuck, Bella. I can't take much more of this," I managed to say. She answered with her tongue in my mouth, which did not help the fucking situation. She pushed me onto the bed and I pulled her down with me because there was no way in hell I was going to let her go. I rolled us over so I could hover over her, pushing her shirt up and just fucking basking in her braless and bare skin. I kissed every part of her naked breasts and stomach, licking the little valleys formed by her ribs, sucking the skin closer to her belly button, hands massaging everything and I couldn't fucking get her close. I wrapped my arms around her too tiny waist and pulled her closer, but it wasn't enough.

She reached down and brought my face to hers, whispering quite possibly the best phrase in the English language.

"Edward, I want you to touch me. Please?" That last beg almost made me come in my pants. Fuck! Her words turned something in me, silenced my reserve, my fingers gripping and rubbing furiously. My mouth sucked on her neck and ear while my hands unbuttoned her pants. I found myself peeling away her jeans quickly, rubbing my hands up and down her thighs, the creamy skin inviting and begging to be touched. My hands moved up her hips and wrapped around the small of her back and ass, squeezing the most fleshy part of Bella, and she sucked in a breath. This sound brought my awareness back and I stopped, gazing into her eyes and silently asking for permission.

Her hand moved to grasp my fucking dick and I was gone. I was hovering in reality, my hand gripping her ass hard and the other just fucking dove into her panties, touching everything. She was wet, so fucking wet I almost thought something was wrong. But she didn't look like she was in pain so I found myself diving deeper into her pussy, the flesh tight around my fingers, one and then two, stretching and swirling, alternating between fast and slow, my fingers just eager to move on their own. I couldn't control it now and my fingers curled around and inside her, pushing and pulling on everything I could touch. My hard dick fucking ached as it pushed against my pants, begging to be released, jealous of the task my hand got to perform. I was thankful it was confined, the possessive creepy kiss still fresh in my awareness. It was a fucking mess. I hadn't really ever done this before but I'd seen it done of course, and I'd heard about it, unfortunately from Emmett, but nothing compared to the feeling of my fingers pushing into this girl, all tight and wet and just a big fucking sticky mess.

Suddenly, I felt Bella's fingers on my pants again and found the button of my pants loose. I stopped.

"Bella, that's not a good idea," I warned. I wasn't sure I could control this. This whole experience was new to me. Bella was in a vulnerable position with her pants removed and it would just be too easy to shed those tiny white cotton panties. What if my body took over again? What if I did something Bella didn't want? What if I hurt her? I didn't want to find out.

"Of course it's a good idea. It's a fucking phenomenal idea, I guarantee it." She kissed me while unzipping my pants and the pressure on my erection eased while the pressure in my head pounded a warning.

"Bella, stop. What if I can't control myself? It might be too much." I didn't want to tell her all the grisly details from this morning or from my out of body experience just now, so I left it at that, hoping she would get the picture.

She didn't. "It's okay, Edward. Let's just see what happens. You'll never know if you don't try." I wanted to believe the words, but my mind was still apprehensive about this. It was just too much to have us both exposed and willing. How would I be able to find the strength to stop?

She touched my face, her fingers like a calm song, smoothing her finger across my lip before kissing me fully. I slowly continued to touch her, sliding in and out, push and pull and when her hand enclosed my throbbing dick, my will crumbled, eliciting a deep moan from my chest, the pleasure of her hands on my skin just unbearably gratifying. I pulled away from her mouth because I couldn't fucking breathe and lightheaded as a motherfucker I collapsed into her shoulder.

She used both hands now, our hands working in unison, and I felt that growling deep in my groin taking over. My fingers pumped into her hard, too hard, but her hands on my cock forced me to keep going, all rational thought gone, and I could feel her opening stretching and widening as my fingers worked fiercely. I wanted to stop to see if she was okay but I couldn't find it within myself, the mounting pressure too staggering to ignore, which fucking scared the shit out of me. I could feel the flesh swell around my fingers and I wanted my dick inside her. I wanted to feel her surround me, engulfing and suffocating, and I wanted it now. I needed to consume her, claim her by flooding her with my fluid, our bodies combining on a cellular level. I thought about removing the fucking underwear and just seeing if she would go for it, the need all encompassing, and I couldn't ignore the burning to take her, disgust burrowing its way into my cognizance.

Struggling to hold onto my sanity, I felt her insistent hand moving with mine inside her, her fingers entering and using her wet slick fluid as lubrication around my dick. Shocked, I gazed intensely into her eyes. The ecstasy was shattering as I fucking came all over my stomach and she continued to pump, the aftershocks inundating and smothering all other senses at the same time. The glory of the orgasm quieted the impulsive monster lurking and I pushed the disturbance from my mind so I could give Bella my full attention.

I had to see Bella come, I had to see the orgasm rock through her body and feel her clench around my fingers, so I pushed into her clit and violently pushed her shirt up, taking her nipple with my teeth, hoping like hell I wasn't being too rough. I guess it didn't matter because she was pulsing now, tightening around my fingers and shuddering when my thumb hit her clit.

I removed my shaking hand and lay back on her bed. Bella's chest was heaving, a content smile on her lips, her lovely eyes closed, and the horror of what I had almost done sickened me. What the fuck am I doing with her? I was a fucking mess, just fluids everywhere. I leaned over and kissed that beautiful creature on the nose and went to the restroom.

I crept silently down the hall to the only open door and entered the dark room. I closed the door and flicked on the light, relieved I had chosen the right door. I washed my stomach using some toilet paper, not wanting to wipe up my spunk with one of Bella's or, God forbid, Charlie's towels but then realized that was an awful idea as it crumbled and shredded, little pieces of paper stuck in the hair on my stomach and groin. I sighed, defeated by paper products, and spent the next fifteen minutes picking shit out off of my belly all the while thinking of the horrible things going through my head while I was finger fucking Bella.

I was so fucking confused. Bella made me feel…normal again. Like I'd never had a crazy father that murdered my mother, like I'd never had the ticking bomb, like I was valuable. The way I felt when I was around her, when we were together intimately…it was a feeling unlike anything I'd ever experienced, even compared to all the shit I'd put my body through during the destructive days, better than fighting, better than extreme sports, this release shook me to my very core, and I hadn't even had sex with her yet. It was just so intense and I was petrified by what this might mean, what implications this realization had. If I ever hurt her, I would…I don't even know what I would do…but I know it would involve some sort of self inflicted torture.

I refused to experience that loss of control again but I couldn't give up the high that being with Bella gave me, my soul would simply not allow it. But I could be a gentleman, take Bella on dates and bring her dying flowers. In my urgency to feel as much of Bella as I could before I…couldn't anymore, I had neglected the thought that she might want to feel something different. Even though it seemed she couldn't quell her desire any more than I could, I knew she deserved better than this. We hadn't even said but a handful of words tonight, just went straight to the groping. It was unforgivable. I mean, I didn't even know what _kind_ of flowers she would like.

I left the bathroom and made my way back to Bella's room in the dark, my eyes having a difficult time adjusting to the loss of light. Bella was still lying on the bed, her soft hair fanned out around her face, her pink lips still curled in small smile. Her shirt was slightly pulled up, exposing her sticky stomach and panties. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

As soon as I sat down on the bed Bella opened her eyes and turned her head towards me. With a grin she left for the bathroom while I looked for my shirt. In my haste to see Bella I had forgotten my coat and I shuddered at how freezing it would be walking out to my car.

I sat on her bed buttoning my shirt when I heard the door open. I looked up, embarrassed now by our exchange, the fact that we had just had to clean ourselves up from the mixing of bodily fluids was a little awkward.

Suddenly Bella crashed into me, the propulsion of her body almost knocking me off the bed. She crawled into my lap, her fingers fastening in my shirt, dampness spreading into the material. Bella was crying, her whole body fucking shaking in silence. At first I panicked, not understanding, thinking she was hurt, that maybe I had hurt her with my…enthusiasm. Bella seemed to calm when I touched her so I wove my hands in her hair, the tangled web a soft gossamer mess, and I smoothed every strand until she was quiet and still. I didn't know why she was so upset but I knew that I could ease it, so that is what I focused on.

It was getting late and I needed to get home or else Carlisle might not be so understanding about my late night social interactions. Bella walked me to my car after pulling on some sweats and I pulled her into my arms, trying to abate some of the cold. I kissed Bella's neck because it was so close and I just couldn't have her that close to my lips without putting them on her. I found her velvety brown eyes and felt the warmth dissolving any sense of foreboding that had been present earlier. I knew what I wanted to do.

"Bella, will you go out with me?" I asked her, wondering if she'd actually say yes.

"What, like on a date?" She smiled a huge fucking smile and I knew she was going to say yes. She was just going to play a little first.

I nodded, returning her grin and knowing her plan.

"Hmmm, I'll have to think about it." She looked up at the sky, trying to look uninterested.

"Really?" I asked, pretending to be surprised. "Well, if you're unsure I could always ask Jessica Stanley." Two could play.

"Ew, gross. Don't even joke like that!" She pushed me in the chest, a tinge in my side, but I caught her and brought her back, intent on never letting go.

"Please Bella, will you go on a date with me?" I begged, kissing her a little as part of the persuasion.

"Okay," she said quietly. I kissed Bella one last time, a small kiss on the lips, before getting into my car. I drove home without the radio, Bella's acceptance the only sound I wanted in my head.

…

I couldn't believe how two weeks could completely change your life. Bella had been here almost two weeks and already things were so fucking different. For one, I spent most of my free time at Bella's house. On her roof wrapped in a comforter. In her room with the door closed. We'd spent every evening just fucking groping and kissing and roaming, some nights intent on getting each other off and some just enjoying the shit out of exploring our relationship. But I didn't let our pants come off at the same time. That kept the creepy monster under wraps and I was able to enjoy my time with Bella without the fear that I would do something unforgivable and manifest that guilt. The time bomb still ticked, just not as loudly.

Another thing is that school went by in a blur. I always met her at her truck in the morning and walked her to class. Then I would meet her in the lunch room where we would eat whatever I had created for us that day, talking and bullshitting with Emmett, Rose and Alice, although Alice was still having some issue with her math class and claimed she needed a remedial tutor. This made no fucking sense because Alice knew that Emmett and I both were excellent at math.

Sometimes Alice would walk Bella to class, the two of them stopping at the restroom by the Science building, and I knew what they were doing. Bella would either come back smelling like fresh cigarettes or fresh peppermint. The girl sure did love her mints.

Even Esme and Carlisle were different. Esme gave me extra long hugs in the morning, patting my back and kissing my cheek before we left for school. It saddened me to think that she couldn't do this before and I wondered why it was okay now, now that I had Bella. Carlisle insisted that we keep the "lines of communication" open, meaning if I decided to have sex with Bella I should tell him. I planned on it, it really wasn't anything I was ashamed of, I just wasn't ready to tackle that demon yet. Even with Bella's consent, I didn't know if I could handle being that close to her without the monster making an appearance and this scared me shitless.

I had gathered a large bag of snacks together for my first official date with Bella. I was taking her to the local drive-in to see a really gory vampire flick. I didn't actually plan on _watching_ the movie much and it just seemed so fucking fantastically cliché to take her to a scary movie at a drive-in for our first date. I had never actually been on a date before and both my experiences with girls were accidents, but Bella was totally on purpose.

I had also asked if I could drive the beast. The Volvo was a beautiful vehicle but her truck oozed drive-in nostalgia and the bench seat in the cab was a plus too. No pesky center console or shift knob in the way.

I packed up the popped popcorn, trail mix, licorice, peppermint patties because Bella likes mints so much, cans of soda, bottles of water and lemonade. So far Bella favored water and lemonade from the lunch counter, so I got both, and I got soda, in case she wanted that too.

We had made plans for me to pick her up at six thirty at her house, which meant I would have to go in, pretend to introduce myself to Charlie and shake his hand or some male bonding shit. This really was ridiculous seeing as how I already knew Charlie but Carlisle seemed to think it was a good idea and he's never steered me wrong.

I showered and got dressed, choosing some gray jeans, a white t-shirt and my black and white plaid flannel shirt, because it might be fucking cold. I even put a little of Emmett's gel in my messy hair trying to tame it into some sort of style but the length kept fucking shit up so I eventually just walked out of the bathroom and left it as is.

I still didn't know what kind of flowers Bella would like so I went out into the woods behind my house and picked her some wildflowers, the yellow sunflowery Balsam Root and deep blue Delphinium accented by delicate white Prairie Star. I looked up all their names, in case she asked. I used a piece of twine to secure the small bundle and it looked sad as all hell but it smelled fucking awesome and it was cultivated from my home, an offering of myself to her.

Tossing about ten blankets into the back seat I placed Bella's flowers on the seat next to me and the bag of snacks on the floor of the Volvo. As I drove to Bella's my nerves began to make an appearance, settling in my gut and fucking with my normal bodily functions. I checked the clock again. Six fifteen. Okay, I was still on time and even a little early. That looks good, like I'm responsible and shit, right?

I pulled into the driveway and then backed out onto the street to park in front of Bella's house. I tossed the blankets and food bag into the back of her truck and, clutching the fragrant bundle tightly in my shaking hand, walked up to the front door. _Relax, fucker, you've been here before._

Before I could even knock, Bella appeared in the doorway. She was wearing a long olive green flowing skirt and a black long sleeve shirt that was all twisted and tied in odd places, and she was wearing, like, dancing shoes or something, like a ballerina. She _looked_ like a fucking ballerina, all beautiful and graceful. Her long hair was loose around her face, thankfully, and her brown eyes glittered with sparkly shadows. Bella was mesmerizing, her beauty all encompassing and surging around her in lustrous adornment. She smiled and walked out onto the porch, closing the door behind her. Reaching up to slide her arms around my neck, she kissed my lips in slow and sensual tugs and licks.

"Hey," she said, pulling away from me.

"Hi," I responded. This was our usual greeting, easy and comfortable, like I'd just been in the other room this whole time. I handed her the bunch of flowers. Her eyes lit up in surprise, an incredulous grin on her lips. She whispered a thank you, quickly kissing me on the cheek. I shrugged, a little embarrassed with my offering, but seeing that light in her eyes made it all worthwhile.

"Okay, so Charlie's really bummed he has to eat Billy's food tonight, so please, please, don't take offense to anything he says or does." Bella felt compelled to warn me. That couldn't have been good. "And, um, he's going to want to know…like, what you are…to me." She looked down, chewing her bottom lip and twisting her fingers.

"Well, what am I…to you?" I asked, interested.

She was still looking down, shifting her stance and causing the material of her skirt to sway around her legs.

"You're kind of like… everything to me." She was putting her feelings out there. It was more than I deserved, but I would accept it for now, while I had the opportunity to make the choice. I had to give her something in return, aligning my emotions with hers.

"I know, me too, Bella. I mean, I feel the same." Fuck, I am terrible at this. I would be glad to claim her as my…whatever. Everything, soul mate, elemental match, pick one, but you couldn't really introduce someone as your binary star, right?

"But maybe we'll just stick to traditional boyfriend and girlfriend labels, for Charlie's sake," I said, pulling her back to me and kissing her forehead. She smiled and nodded, returning the gesture with a small kiss on my lips.

Bella opened the front door and we stepped into the foyer. I could hear the TV on in the living room and I walked in to greet Bella's father. Charlie was seated on the couch, the living room had obviously become his new healing place. I had really only seen the room in passing, in the green glow of a television set. I knew that Charlie slept down here but according to the menagerie of shit that had collected in the room I came to the conclusion that he must stay down here all day too.

Bella walked in behind me and moved to stand by the couch. "Dad, um, this is Edward…my boyfriend." She kind of looked at me with a sarcastic grin when she said that last part and I totally understood her mockery of the word. It was kind of profane to label Bella as only my girlfriend, the ordinary noun unfitting for an extraordinary person.

Charlie slowly stood up, his large form filling the space. He wasn't so tall as much as just big, the residue of atrophied muscles making his arms and legs massive. Charlie assessed me quietly for a moment before offering a huge weathered hand. I mean, he knew me, this was kind of ridiculous, so I smiled and rolled my eyes as I shook his hand firmly. Feeling the power in his grip I realized this man, if he were healthy, could totally fuck me up.

Charlie obviously didn't appreciate my nonchalant gesture because his face remained appraising. I felt like I should say something but I couldn't think of anything. I just stood there, holding this dude's hand for like a whole two minutes of silence. I eventually pulled my hand away and Charlie sat back down on the couch, giving his attention to the television set again.

No wonder Bella though he didn't like her. Charlie was stone, a fucking statue of blank affect.

Bella smiled apologetically at me and then turned to her dad. "Okay, we're going to go. I'll be home soon, not too late."

"Hmph," Charlie grunted. Bella moved past me to get her coat from the foyer.

"It was nice to see you again, Charlie. Carlisle says hi," I said. Charlie's head snapped over to look at me, his lip twitching, and for an instant a glimmer of amusement shone in his weary eyes. I grinned again, shaking my head.

Bella was waiting by her truck and I ran out to meet her, opening her door and helping her into the vehicle. I walked around to the driver's side, praying I wouldn't stall her truck, or grind the gears or something like that.

I drove to the drive-in only stalling once. Bella laughed her ass off so I didn't feel too bad about my inability to move my feet in opposing directions at the same time. The lot was already filling up but I managed to find a good spot, right in the middle. I parked the truck, got two blankets and the snacks from the back, and tuned the old radio to the FM modulator frequency for our movie.

"So what movie are we even seeing?" Bella asked, unbuckling and kicking her shoes off, exposing her bare feet. I had never really seen her feet before, they had always been shrouded in socks, and the sight of them naked uncovered yet another part of Bella for me to adore. She curled her legs underneath her skirt, sitting cross legged in her seat. The skirt was killing me, easy access couldn't be more enticing.

"I don't even know what it's called, but it's scary," I responded with a sly grin. "You might be scared. You might have to sit really close to me, like on my lap." I winked at her and she moved to crawl closer.

"Really? What if you're scared? I'm not going to let you sit on my lap," she said, nestling into my side as I put my arm around her.

"I'll just have to find something to distract me," I replied, breathing into her neck and placing a slow wet kiss below her jaw.

"Jesus Edward, the movie hasn't even started yet," she joked breathlessly, leaning her head away from me, exposing more of her skin and allowing for easier access. I brushed the hair from her shoulder, entranced by the exquisite lines of her neck curving into her shoulder. Her black criss-cross shirt formed a lovely V along her chest, exposing her delicate collarbones. This girl was all bones and the urge to nourish her arose, reminding me of the snackage I had prepared for us.

I pulled away, snickering at her answering glare, and reached down to get the bag. "I brought the goods," I announced, putting the bag between us.

"What'd you bring," she asked, slightly interested.

"All kinds of shit. You know, movie food." Digging through the bag, I searched for the peppermint patties because I had a suspicion she would like them the best. I pulled them out and tossed the bag to her.

She caught the bag and stared at them for like a full minute. I thought she might not know what they were so I explained. "They're chocolate and peppermint, because you like mints so much."

"I know," she said quietly, apprehension clinging in the air. Shit, was she pissed?

"You don't have to eat them. I just thought you might like them since I don't really know what kind of candy you like. I was kind of shooting in the dark here." I felt like a total ass. Why didn't I just fucking ask her what she wanted instead of assuming? Shit, I fucked this up with goddamn candy.

"No, you're right. I love mints. I've never tried these before, that's all. I bet they're great." Bella looked up now, her eyes glassed over, and smiled at me. She opened the bag and removed one of the candies, unwrapped it and took a bite. She chewed slowly and carefully, smiling at me as she consumed the treat. Bella must have liked them because she unwrapped another and ate it slowly, like the first. Then she twisted the top of the bag and put it on the floor.

Content with this display, I brought out the bag of popcorn and drinks, stowing the bag beneath my feet. The credits had started to roll and Bella cozied up to my side again.

The movie was a fucking cherry pie fest. Red syrup and gore just fucking everywhere. It was seriously turning my stomach to watch this shit. Bella spent the first thirty minutes of the movie hiding under my arm and asking for a plot play by play.

I pulled one of the blankets around us and handed her a bottle of lemonade. She took the bottle and opened it, taking a sip.

"You really thought of everything, didn't you?" she said, engrossed in the bottle.

I shrugged. "I just wanted things to be cool, you know." I kissed her hair, inhaling deeply her sweet organic scent.

"Well, mission accomplished. Everything has been very cool." She turned toward me and placed a gentle kiss, slightly sucking the puckered flesh, and her teeth tugging on my lower lip. I returned her endearment and flexed the arm already around her to press her closer to me, deepening the kiss, sliding my tongue out to meet hers as she arranged her hands in my hair. Her fingers on the back of my scalp, massaging, her mouth moving with mine, she moved her body to rest on her knees. Her hands tugged slightly, tufts of hair in her fingers as frenzy and intensity bled into her gratitude.

Bella was now completely on top of me, our bodies moving in a tidal push and pull as her hands pulled on my hair and her tongue pushed into my mouth. I brought my other arm up to her lower back, running my hand down to grab her ass, and pressed into her, the gauze under my gripping fingers reminding me that she was wearing a fucking skirt and I could have shouted hallelujah right out loud. I continued to clutch her skirt around her ass with both hands now and she pushed that little butt out into my grasp, arching her back and pushing her tits into my chest. Bella was driving my actions tonight, her lust evident in every movement and touch.

I couldn't fucking breathe now and I pulled away from her mouth to connect to that curve in her neck. I sucked on the skin, wanting to make a mark, pulling the flesh a little with my teeth. Bella leaned away, exposing the area more, a silent beckon to continue. I continued to suck on the spot, the blood underneath rising to the surface. My brain was telling me to pull away, that I would leave a mark, but the undulations of Bella's body rolling against mine as I sucked on her neck secured my mouth to the spot and I couldn't stop. Her flesh was sweet, her lotion or something tasted like fruit, and I wanted to taste more. Bella gripped me even closer to her skin, inciting arousal as she moaned in satisfaction. The sound of her voice caused my semi-swollen dick to stir, expanding and straining against my zipper.

I could have sucked her neck for hours but Bella disengaged from my mouth, bringing her lips back to mine, licking at my mouth and begging for entrance. I brought her tongue inside, looping and rolling together as her hands trailed down my shoulders and chest and came to rest in my lap. She rubbed my dick with her hands, sending sparks throughout the energized matter and pulled away from my mouth.

She stared into my eyes now, rubbing and groping, her hair falling around her face and shoulders. She was breathing heavily, her chest heaving with every movement of her hands.

Bella moved her hands to unbutton my pants. This was kind of against the rules because technically Bella didn't have any pants on. I dropped my hands from her ass, the elastic lines of her panties grazing my fingers. I brought them to her sides instead, holding her small frame away from my body.

"No, let me do you. I mean, we can't let this skirt go to waste," I suggested, trying to give her a subtle hint. She ignored my request and continued unzipping my pants.

"Bella…" I moaned in protest.

"Please, Edward." She was fucking begging. I swear she knows that this gets me every time. I stopped protesting and let her pull down my pants and jockeys, freeing my dick and just feeling fucking glorious in all the attention. She grabbed it with both hands, massaging and rubbing the entire area, paying attention to every little detail of my groin. I groaned as she began to massage the tip, a slight bit of the fluid oozing from the opening. She used her thumb to smear the liquid and my hips convulsed involuntarily. I brought my hand to her shirt, pulling the neckline down to expose her breast. I fucking loved it that Bella never wore a bra, it was just so damn convenient. Kneading the flesh and twirling her hard nipple, I rolled my head back to lean against the back window, my hand moving into her shirt to pull her other nipple. Bella's hands felt so amazing, warm and soft yet persistent as all hell in their strokes. She knew what she was doing to me, coming up over the tip with her palm and then pulling down hard on the shaft. Utterly amazing.

I was just reveling in the surges of need pulsing throughout my veins when I felt Bella's wet tongue swirl around the tip of my dick. _Holy sweet mother of God!_ Sparks shot through my skin at that moment igniting each cell beneath. My head whipped up and I gazed down at Bella's head in my lap, her hands wrapped around the length of my cock, her eyes gauging my reaction.

"Is this okay?" she asked. I don't know what kind of shock was plastered on my face, but it was enough to worry her.

"Yeah, I mean, you don't have to." _Please. Please. Please._ She didn't respond, her mouth hovering over the tip, her pink plump lips poised in fucking anticipation. Oh my God, she's trying to kill me. She spread her mouth into a sly smile and slipped my dick between those lips, her flesh finally connecting with mine in an initial moment of glorious euphoria. Bella's mouthed moved so incredibly slowly, her tongue searching every inch and crevice, her hands working in unison as she moved up and down.

She was still on her knees, her ass in the air. Desperate to feel her, I pushed my hand up her skirt between her legs, my hand gripping the back of her thigh. I grazed the crotch of her panties with my fingers and as Bella's tongue swirled around my tip again, I slid my fingers under the elastic to feel her wetness. Her position made things incredibly easy and I slid my fingers into her, pulling some of her slickness to rub into her clit. She groaned around my dick as I continued to press my fingers into her, matching her speed. Slow and torturous, the pressure was building and spiraling up my spine. I continued to force my fingers into her, feeling her swelling flesh warm and slick around me.

I brought my other hand to Bella's head, my hand pulling her hair to one side and I saw it, the dark brownish red mark on the curve of her neck. Fuck! I had left a bruise, a defilement on her perfect porcelain skin. I had done this to her, fucking bruised her, probably hurt her. Bile caught in my throat and I had to fight the urge to heave.

I pulled away, removing every connection, and then she was crawling into my lap, straddling me, her back against the steering wheel and her skirt hiked up around her hips. This was a very dangerous position, my dick pressing into her thigh, the only barrier a thin piece of cotton.

"Bella!" I gasped. I wanted this bad, wanted her to just fucking sit on my dick so I could finally fill her up completely. But the mark on her neck reminded me of my inability to keep control. I didn't know what that sensation would do to me, what it could trigger, if that would be the catalyst to set my bomb off.

"Edward, it's okay. Just go with it, it's just natural. I want this, you don't have to feel guilty. You're not taking advantage or anything." Bella was trying to guess the reason for my reluctance, giving the response for every excuse she could think of. She pressed into my dick with her pussy, rocking against me, and I could feel the heat and dampness through her panties.

I couldn't do this to her, not here. I couldn't defile her again. "Bella, not here, okay? Not in your truck at the drive-in. I mean, it's only our first date." As soon as the words were out of my mouth I knew she was going to interpret them in the wrong way.

She squinted her eyes, glaring at me now. Fuck.

"What do you mean by that? Are you insinuating I'm some kind of slut or something?" She was fucking pissed and now I could see that my choice of words was horrific. Even though I knew I was going to have to kiss a whole lot of ass to make up for this, I was slightly relieved, knowing she wouldn't press the sex issue any further. For now.

"Of course not. Bella, I'm just saying, not now, not here. I mean, your dad would kill me." I was trying to smooth over the situation which apparently was going to backfire completely.

"Fuck my dad, Edward! And what the hell are we waiting for? Don't you want me like that? Don't you want this?" She was yelling now, angry tears in her eyes. "You know what, forget it. I have to go pee. I'll be back in a minute. You might want to finish yourself off otherwise you're going to be pretty uncomfortable for the next couple of days." She slid off my lap while fixing her top, grabbed her shoes and exited the truck, slamming the door in the process.

Fucking shit! This is not what I had planned. I hastily pulled up my pants, pinning down my erection and grabbed the keys, following her to the concession stand and restroom. I stood outside the women's restroom waiting. I walked around the back of the building, pacing, trying to quell my desire to intrude on her in the restroom. My desire won over logic once again and I ducked inside the women's restroom searching the stalls for Bella. The last one was locked and I peeked underneath the stall looking for the ballerina slippers. Instead, I saw her green skirt swirled around the floor, the soles of her shoes peeking out from beneath the skirt. She was crying and spitting into the toilet.

I stood up, confused and panicked.

"Bella?" I asked, choking the words out.

"What are you doing in here?" she cried. I could hear the pain in her voice.

"Are you okay? Are you sick?" I wanted to see her face, look her in the eyes so I could see for myself.

"Yeah, Edward. I'm fucking sick," she said quietly, spitting out the words.

"Come out. I'll take you home." I put a hand on the door, waiting to touch her, soothe her discomfort.

She was silent a few more moments and I paced while I waited. Finally the door opened and Bella came out of the bathroom, her face tear-stained and sunken in, her eyes swollen and red. I pulled her into my arms, practically carrying her to her truck. "It's okay Bella. I'll take care of everything," I promised as I drove her home. I was intent on keeping that promise.

...

**A/N**

Intense much?? Anyone else need a drink and a cigarette? And maybe a nap?

And what is an appropriate amount of time for two horny and mentally unstable 17 year olds to wait before fucking?? Just curious...

I just want to say thank you again for the Indie Twific goodness and the rec's and all the positive love...God, I'm being such a sap today.

Reviews are like drinks and cigarettes, so deliciously satisfying...


	11. Young Love was Kissing Under Bridges

Darlings and new Lovelies,

It's been awhile since our last chat and for that I'm deeply regretful...

I'd like to welcome all the new lovelies to our little soiree we have going on here, enjoy the tasty treats!

I appreciate all you readers so much and those ladies that incessantly praise this story, I just want to hug and kiss you under a bridge in France on Main Street. In other words, I'm very grateful...

Speaking of grateful, dear beta, **n7of9**, I think I owe you homemade chocolate cake everyday for the rest of your life for the amount of energy you contribute to this story. I sat here for like twenty minutes trying to think of something clever to say...Thank you my love, will have to suffice...

**Ch. 11: _"Young Love was Kissing Under Bridges"_**

**BPOV:**

"And you're a Virgo with a Virgo rising _and_ a Virgo moon, which means that your Virgo traits are, like, insane. It says that you have a methodical mind and examine the details of a situation." Alice was reading from her notebook again, a pen poised between her lips. She had my whole fucking life story laid out in that damn notebook. _"She's gotten to the Zodiac and Zen…"_ Joni's words hummed in my brain and made me smile.

Alice had already told me that I have innate skills of manipulation, that I could be boring because I stick to the 'rules', and that I thrive in a stable environment. I scoffed at this, I didn't really know if it would be true because I'd never actually been in a stable environment.

Alice's big purple Astrology book lay open on my bed, her notes and papers scattered across my comforter. Apparently, she'd also cosmically critiqued Edward, explaining that he was a Gemini and that his Moon was in my Venus, or something like that. I didn't have the heart to tell her that his Moon wasn't nearly as close to my Venus as I would have liked. I couldn't really concentrate on her ramblings though, I was nervous enough as it was - Edward would be here in two hours for our date.

It was Saturday and Alice had been here since two. She had brought over a huge duffle bag containing the necessary ingredients for Operation Make Bella Pretty, and now we only had two hours left, two hours to get beautiful. Considering it hadn't happened in the last seventeen years I doubted it would happen now. Alice was planning on preparing my face with an onslaught of cosmetics she was currently arranging on my dresser - small containers of shimmering gold and brown powders, the translucent shades glittering in the dull light of my bedroom; several bottles of liquids in numerous flesh tones and pink pastels; smudged pencils, the tips black and dull from use; black and blue tubes; and some awful looking pinching contraption that could only be a device for torture, all laid out like surgical tools.

"We're just going to keep things natural," she said after she put the notebook down and continued with her impossible mission. Alice had been trying to relay to me the enlightening information she had discovered in her astrological quest for world domination by memory but had wound up running back to her notebook, like, five times already.

"I need all this shit to make me look natural? Fuck, I'd hate to see what I'd need to make me look somewhat attractive." I sighed at the thought of my face all painted up. It was a futile task, beauty, and it only made me feel more defeated to try.

It had been five days since Edward had asked me out on a date, like a real date. I had never been on a real date actually. All three of my almost boyfriends had just been guys that I hung out with, you know, messed around with from time to time. Not one of them had actually asked me out on a date, like a come-in-and-meet-your-parents kind of date, so I was ridiculously excited that Edward had.

We had spent almost every evening together this week. Edward would show up at my front door after Charlie had gone to sleep and I would lead him to my room. Sometimes he would take me onto the roof, wrapping me in my comforter like that first night and we would just talk, just fucking talk for hours about all kinds of shit. Sometimes it was deep and meaningful, taking on the issues that are quick to be debated. Sometimes it was silly, like his favorite T.V. shows from when he was a kid or my top five favorite songs of all time which, to no surprise of mine, all include the phrase 'by Joni Mitchell'.

Sometimes we would make out on my bed, just exploring every inch of our newfound fascination with each other. I loved his hands on me, they way they felt me up every time like they'd never felt me before, the way Edward seemed to be unable to control the urge to feel my skin and to kiss my lips or play with my hair. It just felt _good_…much better than I thought I could feel. It was like he knew what I was thinking, knew what I wanted, and anticipated my every craving.

Then there was the way he made me _feel_, and the emotions meandering through my cerebellum. What I found in his star-dappled green eyes, the raw power of what we were both feeling, initially tainted my elation with anxiety. I didn't want to lose that, ever, not even for one quick second, so I soaked it up insatiably when I was with him, pouring it into my soul and allowing it to sift with my very elemental basis.

I had thought school would be much more awkward than it was turning out to be. With Alice now knowing about my eating habits, I hovered between relief and worry with my exposure an ever-present possibility.

I was relieved because now I had an ally. Alice wasn't someone who was going to lecture me about what purging was doing to my body, she knew I was already aware of that shit. She was just _there_, a reminder that my actions may indirectly affect others. I had always been under the impression that by abstaining and purging I had only been destroying myself. I found value in that fact, that at least it was something in which only I suffered from.

Alice had gone and fucking shot that theory all to hell the day she refused to leave the school day-smoking restroom. I just couldn't do it in front of her and she knew that. On those days we'd just smoke our cigarettes and Alice would talk about how she was getting tired of hiding Jasper, and I would talk about how I was tired of hiding my eating issues, all the while both of us hiding in that fucking restroom.

This put me in an interesting predicament because I couldn't refrain from enjoying Edward's lunches, the ambrosial aromas were just too much for me to bear, but I couldn't always allow the weight to settle in my body, the compulsion to purge still too heavy to stifle completely. I had only puked twice this week at school, both times Alice had been covertly spending her lunch period with Jasper, and I felt guilty as shit going to that restroom without her. Both times I had gone back to Edward just wanting to confess everything to him, to let it all out and be free of this shit. I had chickened out, of course, one look into his deep receiving eyes and I just couldn't fucking do it. But I was exceedingly worried that Edward was going to find out without me getting the chance to explain myself. I knew there really wasn't an excuse for what I was doing, and for what I was willing to let it do to Edward. He was a part of this now and I was keeping him in the dark, showing him the sugarcoated version of myself. It was so fucking cowardly that I couldn't own up to this, but I couldn't let go of it either, my body still getting used to this new habit. This connection with Edward had me completely entrenched in finding a new source of self-worth by allowing myself to be nurtured, but it was going to be a slow process.

I had warned Charlie that Edward was going to be coming to the house and was going to take me on a date. Charlie was…interested, I guess that would be an appropriate description. He grunted a couple words, wanted to know when and where we were going and then he asked me something I wasn't expecting - he wanted to know if Edward was my boyfriend. Like, he asked in those exact words, 'Is Edward your boyfriend?' It took me a moment to respond, anxiety engaging my awareness and sending tiny flutters to my stomach. _Was_ Edward my boyfriend? It certainly seemed that way. He walked me to class in the morning and made me lunch every day, he practically pulled me into his lap in Biology and we spent the late nights consumed with each other.

Despite all the evidence that whispered 'Yes', I honestly didn't know. I was reluctant to slap a label on what I was experiencing with Edward, afraid to enclose our relationship within one little petty word, but the label brought understanding. One word I could offer to Charlie, or Renee if she ever called again, to explain that Edward and I were attached. At any rate, nothing had been declared or decided so I just ignored Charlie's question, pretty sure that he would do the same, and was relieved when he didn't bring it up again. But I didn't forget.

Alice yanked a brush through my chaotic hair, the tangles causing my head to lurch and yank back. Alice was intent on giving me smooth hair yet despite her every advance - blow dryer, styling cream, straightening iron - the high humidity of the atmosphere damned her attempts straight to hell. She finally settled on untangled as a goal. She handed me the olive gauze skirt that was "to be Edward's demise", as she had put it, and a black wrap top, completing the ensemble with black ballet flats. I had to admit that I liked the way it looked, the skirt swirling around my legs and swishing when I moved. I felt graceful for maybe the first time in my life, poised and figured, the skirt ballooning from my hips and making them look a little wider than they really were.

I sat on my bed as Alice decorated my face, choosing her tools wisely, a seriously pensive purse in her lips and her eyebrows creased in concentration. She was wearing a black headband slicking her hair back and showing off her celestial features. I couldn't help but stare at her as she focused on the task at hand, her green eyes reminding me of that picture hanging in the Cullens' hallway.

I still didn't know what had happened to Edward and Alice's parents. I knew they were dead and I knew that there may have been some sort of scandal involved, but other than that I was just as ignorant as Jessica Stanley and her band of miscreants. I tried to remember that I too lived in a world of secrets and that they would divulge this information when they saw fit, but I couldn't help but dwell on deciding whose silence stung the most, Edward's or Alice's.

"Alice?" I began, but then stopped. My curiosity was gnawing at my resolve. I could ask her and I think she would tell me, because she always did, but I didn't know if this was how I wanted this information exposed to me. Truthfully, I wanted Edward to willingly offer me this piece of his past, the detail probably a very important part of his being.

"Um, where did you learn all this makeup stuff anyways?" I lamely asked instead of the pressing inquiry that was really plaguing me. I thought for sure Alice would have noticed my hesitancy but she just launched into some detailed explanation of her favorite magazines and websites and I half-ass listened, further perturbed that Edward hadn't given this part of himself to me. Again, I was the hypocrite, wanting the revelation when really I didn't deserve it.

"Well, if I may say so myself, and of course I may, you look lovely, my dear." Alice began cleaning up her myriad of makeup, shaking off any residual dust. "Jasper is picking me up in like five minutes."

"What? How did he get his license back?" I asked, thinking that he still had at least a couple more months of probation.

"Oh, well he didn't exactly get his license back," Alice shrugged. "But I needed a ride so he said he'd come pick me up. I wonder whose car he'll be driving? I doubt Rose will let him use her BMW."

"I doubt Rose would do anything that would be considered helpful," I muttered, remembering the awkward lunches I had spent in her presence this week. She hadn't said but two words to me all week, the silent treatment her new preferred method of inflicting humiliation and detest.

"Oh, she's not so bad once you get to know her. She just doesn't like change. It's scary to her, trying to deal with someone she can't control." Alice sticking up for Rosalie was slightly irritating, but I pushed that aside, focusing instead on the fact that Edward would be meeting my father in merely twenty minutes. Sure, Edward technically already knew Charlie, but he didn't know him as my 'father' and the distinction kind of made a difference. It was another small offering I could give to Charlie, introducing him to a boy who's taking me on a date. It was almost like we were pretending to be family.

I walked Alice out to meet Jasper who, surprisingly, did pull up in Rosalie's red BMW, most likely borrowed without consent. He grinned slyly at me from the driver's seat, a lit cigarette between his lips, the smoke swirling around his face. He gave a slight wave as Alice gave me a hug and whispered "Good luck" before running to the car and sliding into the passenger seat. Jasper flicked his spent cigarette out the window and leaned over to kiss his lady before pulling away from the curb.

Fifteen minutes now. I took a deep breath and walked back into the house. I guess I could go make an attempt to talk to Charlie for fifteen minutes. Charlie was in his new spot on the couch wrapped in that afghan, watching T.V. I wandered casually into the living room and Charlie turned to take in my appearance. He stared at me a few moments before grunting and turning back the television.

"What?" I asked. I was no longer controlling the impulse to voice my opinion, not since my initial outburst last Saturday. I said what I wanted now, hoping this would spur Charlie into some kind of verbal exchange. Plus, if I was going to be here for any length of time, there was no way I was going to be able to repress that part of my personality for long.

Charlie sighed, still a bit surprised by my impetuous responses. "Nothing, you just look too… nice," he grumbled. I suppose this was a compliment.

"Thanks. Alice did it," I explained, smoothing the skirt and suddenly feeling super self-conscious and wishing I had just opted for the jeans and t-shirt.

"No. I don't think she did." Charlie kept his gaze fixed on the television and it took me a moment to realize what he meant. I didn't really know how to respond.

"Thanks," I said quietly, unable to think of anything meaningful to say.

Charlie shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. I shuffled my feet, swaying from side to side to feel the skirt swish around my legs, looking everywhere but at Charlie. It was the most awkward sixty seconds of my life.

"So, there's some vegetable soup in the fridge if you're hungry, or some chicken and rice," I mentioned, sitting in one of the chairs under the window. I'd been trying to keep some already made meals in the fridge for Charlie, knowing that nutrition was kind of important for his recovery. I would make a meal from the list Carlisle had given me and freeze half of it, leaving the other half in the fridge in case Charlie wanted it.

"Billy said he's bringing me something," Charlie scowled. He hated Billy's cooking.

"Okay." More awkward silence. Shit, when was this going to get easier?

We sat in silence for the next ten minutes. At five till, I glanced out the window and saw Edward parking his car on the street. Early, he was fucking early. I ran to the door, probably a bit too enthusiastically, to greet him without watching and critiquing eyes.

When I opened the door Edward had been about to knock, surprise etched across his beautiful face, and I couldn't help but smile a big-ass dopey grin at his bewilderment. He was wearing these gray jeans and a white t-shirt, the material clinging to his angular frame beneath his flannel shirt. Flannel fucking kills me, the softly woven blends of blacks and whites just begged for caressing. I wanted to inhale him, natural and fibrous, bringing him in through my senses, infused with just another way to absorb him.

I slipped my hands up around his neck, striving to bring him closer as I brought his fleshy lips to mine, breathing him in and tasting his warm honey essence. I pulled away, licking my lips and relishing in his nectarous flavor. It was perplexing how this boy could actually taste good, intoxicating really, like the most delicious meal or a most satisfying dessert. Maybe it was because of his affinity for cooking, but I swear, whenever I tasted Edward I felt curiously and most comfortably filled.

"Hey," I said, the taste lingering.

"Hi," he replied, pulling out a small bundle of the most visually appealing flowers I'd ever seen. I didn't recognize any of them but the contrasting buttery orange, deep azure, and striking white reflected and coalesced, the fragrant bundle bringing tears to the brim and causing my chest to constrict. I didn't think I could speak without sending the salty fluid sprawling down my cheeks, so I barely whispered 'Thank you', unable to hide my delight, I'm sure. Shit, I am such a girl, tearing up over fucking flowers.

Gathering my emotions and trying to alter my mental state, I fixated on the reason I had met him on the porch in the first place.

"Okay, so Charlie's really bummed he has to eat Billy's food tonight, so please, please, don't take offense to anything he says or does." I was pathetically pleading, knowing Edward was inclined to overreact and really not wanting Charlie's bad attitude fucking this up for him.

And I had to warn him just in case Charlie asked the boyfriend question. That was the reasoning I was using to rationalize my deplorable prying. I really just wanted to know what Edward was thinking about us, about our relationship, about me, _if_ he was thinking about me at all. It was horribly conniving, I know, and I felt like shit for doing it, but my own self-serving curiosity won over my conscience.

Hesitant in what I was I was going to ask, I struggled to articulate, "And, um, he's going to want to know…like, what you are…to me." Shit, shit, shit! I should have just put it in a note, _Do you like me? Circle yes or no_...

I waited, apprehension caught in my throat, anticipating his response now that the words were hanging out there and just vibrating in my own ears.

"Well, what am I…to you?" Edward asked. He was going to put this on me. This boy was going to make me declare myself before responding, feeling out the situation before he made himself emotionally vulnerable. Fuck, why didn't I think of that?

I didn't know what to do, my head shouting retreat, my heart propelling me forward. Maybe it was because I had just almost cried or because I was wearing a pretty skirt, but my romantic side won over practicality.

"You're kind of like…everything to me." There it was. And it was true too. In two weeks my whole existence had shifted to orbit around this one intriguing creature.

"I know, me too, Bella. I mean, I feel the same." The stress in my chest eased with this information, a bit of resonance now lingering in the atmosphere. I had to admit, I wasn't horribly surprised, seeing as how I didn't think Edward would spend so much time with someone he didn't at least like a little bit. However, the testimony was bittersweet, adding clout to my fear that when Edward found out what I really was the intensity of his discord would make the betrayal that much more unforgivable.

I had to tell him. Soon.

Edward continued, "But maybe we'll stick to traditional boyfriend and girlfriend labels, for Charlie's sake." He pulled me close to kiss my forehead and I understood his judgment. I don't think people would understand our connection. I mean, shit, _I_ didn't understand it and I was fully immersed in this enigmatic conjuncture of souls.

My anxiety abated by Edward's admission, I ushered him into the house to "meet" Charlie, placing the flowers on the table in the foyer, intent on hanging them to dry later before they crumbled into a mess. I was about to introduce Edward to Charlie as my boyfriend and I had to admit, I was suffering from equal parts dread and elation at the thought of this.

"Dad, um, this is Edward…my boyfriend." I smiled at Edward, knowing that this word didn't begin to describe what he was to me. Charlie stood up and held his hand out to Edward without a word. He was playing the bad cop tonight. Edward took his hand, kind of smirking at the formality.

They just stood there holding hands for what seemed like forever. The silence was killing me, and I almost said something on many occasions, but I couldn't bring myself to be the one to fill the conversational void. Charlie was blank, I couldn't read him. And Edward…Edward was assessing, judging the silence, appraising Charlie's lack of facial expression, evaluating the conditions my father was living in. He finally pulled his hand from my father's, Charlie sitting and focusing once again on his preferred medium for entertainment. I couldn't stand it in this room anymore.

"Okay, we're going to go. I'll be home soon, not too late." I escaped the room, getting my coat from the foyer. I thought Edward would follow me but he didn't and I couldn't bring myself to go back into that tension thickened room. Blood was rushing to my cheeks and I felt that familiar heat burning in my skin. Yanking the front door open and flooded with cool, I quickly filled my lungs with the crisp air, the spruce outside my window sending coniferous wafts of spiraling evergreen, the woodsy scent of mineral constituents placating my nerves.

I remembered then that Edward had asked to drive my truck and I realized that I didn't even know where the hell we were going. I glanced in the back of the truck and saw blankets and a large plastic bag - late night picnic, nice!

I was surprised as shit when Edward pulled into the drive-in, noticing the two movies playing were some horror flick and a romantic comedy, both equally dreadful. We had settled into a nice conversation and I was feeling very cozy until Edward busted out a bag of peppermint patties. He threw the bag into my hands and I just stared at the silver and blue wrapping, the shiny foil disdainfully inviting.

"They're chocolate and peppermint, because you like mints so much," Edward said uneasily. Fuck, he was getting closer, connecting the details and drawing his conclusions without even really realizing it. The thought was stifling, shuddering me into time-induced worry. I had to offer this information before he figured it out, before he heard it from Alice or worse, before he witnessed the spectacle for himself. The longer I let this go, the larger that threat became.

"I know," I responded. Trust me, no one paid more attention to food than I did.

"You don't have to eat them. I just thought you might like them since I really don't know what kind of candy you like. I was kind of shooting in the dark here," Edward defended. Shit, I am such a bitch! Here he was taking the initiative in every aspect imaginable and I was sitting here like a spoiled brat, wrapped in deceit and centered on my own fear.

"No, you're right. I love mints. I've never tried these before, that's all. I bet they're great." I suppressed the urge to flee and smiled instead. I unwrapped one of the candies and ate it slowly. It wasn't really the love of mint that kept me tied to the candies but the fact that they seemed to relieve the nausea sometimes and they were successful in disguising that oh-so-lovely vomit smell. I used to chew gum but then I started getting headaches, my jaw aching from the constant chewing motion. Mints had been working out much better for me.

I claimed another patty for good measure and then tied off the bag and dropped it to the floor, out of sight, helping me to forget my lapse in self control. I was hoping that because mint was a natural antiemetic the candy wouldn't set my stomach to self-destruct. It only took about a half hour to find out.

I was hidden under Edward's arm avoiding the grossest movie I'd ever seen. Well, I didn't exactly _see_ the movie, I just berated Edward into telling me what was happening while I closed my eyes and lost myself in Edward's body. He must have thought the snuggling meant I was cold because he reached down to get a blanket from the floor. Edward tucked the blanket around us and handed me a bottle of lemonade. I took a drink of the tart liquid and there it was, creeping into my belly, the gurgling and rumbling associated with an irritated bowel.

Shit! My stomach lurched and I calmed myself by inhaling Edward's refreshing scent deep into my lungs. It seemed to calm the involuntary reaction momentarily and I used this break in nausea to fill myself with another compulsion that I noticed seemed to distract me from the pressure of my extended abdomen. After some meaningless transfer of niceties, I kissed Edward.

I started slowly, tugging on his lips with mine, sucking his lip into my mouth because I knew he liked it when I did that. The kiss distracted my attention, the nausea and pain in my stomach lessening and altering, shifting into a different pain, a pain that was easily eased by much more attractive means. Edward pulled me closer, his tongue gaining access to mine, my hands moving up to his reddish brown tangles. His hair felt strange, crunchy almost, and I twirled the gelled portions between my fingers to loosen the strands. His mouth was starting to get intensely powerful, the sexual energy between us had been mounting all week, and each time we found ourselves in these intimate exchanges it got harder and harder to control myself.

I wanted him, like, _wanted him_ wanted him. I wanted to give myself to him completely but I didn't know if he completely wanted me. I couldn't deny the attraction, the fervor with which his hands and mouth and other slightly more important parts seemed to react to my attention, but I didn't know if this was enough. I knew Edward was a virgin, I just didn't know why. I mean, Edward was beautiful, like the kind of beautiful that made you forget that horrible things like pain and suffering even existed in the world. It was glaringly obvious I wasn't the only one harboring this opinion and yet Edward had still remained unattached. I wasn't complaining, trust me, his inexperience matched mine, allowing my insecurities with my performance of the sexual nature to go unfounded. It seemed that together in this intimate way with him, I felt confident and desired, allowing self-doubt to melt away. I loved the way I felt about myself when I was with Edward and I wanted to feel that way more and more.

I craved to be closer so I shifted to my knees, pressing myself against him and forcefully wrapping my mouth around his, my hands moving in his hair and my body rolling on top of him. I pitched forward in an attempt to release some of the potential energy radiating from deep below my navel.

I pushed into him, unable to control the way my body was pulsing in waves against him now and I had to further our connection, yearning for him to take advantage of this damn skirt. He was apparently in need of some coaxing so I shifted to kiss him again, dragging my hands down his chest and resting them in his lap, his already hard dick palpable through his jeans. Fuck, that is such a turn on, the fact that his body reacts to me this way, that I was possibly responsible for this involuntary response, like even subconsciously Edward's body danced to my energy, connecting to mine in a symphony of explicit bliss.

My hands caressed and rubbed, clutching at his dick through the stiffness of denim, trying to convey my need to feel his skin. I decided it was better to apologize than to ask and be denied, so I unbuttoned his pants. I had noticed his unspoken rule, his aversion to being exposed at the same time. I didn't quite understand it and I hadn't asked, but simply pressed the issue whenever possible. I wasn't exactly wearing pants tonight, Alice coconspirator in my carefully thought out plan, Operation Mutual Nakedness.

Edward noticed also. "No, let me do you. I mean, we can't let this skirt go to waste," he smirked. He was trying to entice me into caving, the offer of orgasmic ecstasy on the table, but I couldn't deny this new compulsion. I ignored him, unzipping his pants.

He moaned, either in pleasure or protest, I couldn't decide.

"Please, Edward," I begged, knowing he wouldn't deny my request. He rarely ever did. I pulled down his pants and attended to his cock, grasping with both hands, and massaging the entire area. I once read this book that said that most people only pay attention to the product and not the process. This kind of stuck with me and I really enjoyed this process so I ran my hands over everything. As my hand traveled up his shaft and over the tip, a small amount of fluid leaked out of the slit and the sight of this made me want to do something I'd never done before.

I wanted to taste him, curious to see if this part of him tasted as good as his mouth did, like warm summer honey. I ran my thumb across the tip, the slippery liquid filming over the tip. Edward reacted with enthusiasm, his hips shifting and his hand yanking the neckline of my top down to expose my breast, palming the flesh and toying with my nipple as my hands continued to stroke his dick. Jesus, his hands were amazing, the sensitive skin between his fingers tingled sending electric sparks shooting throughout my body, warming the tissue and causing my breath to smother in my lungs. I felt like I was breathing so loudly, embarrassingly so, my every sound echoing in the small cab. I tried to calm myself by breathing through my nose a couple times.

Edward leaned his head against the back window, closing his eyes and enjoying my hands on him. I had kind of gotten to know the types of things Edward particularly liked and using this knowledge and his reactions, I felt accomplished that I was able to make him feel something amazing.

I wanted to give him more. The urge to reach down and place my mouth around his dick was tormenting me. I yearned for that experience, to have every part of him inside of me, and this was one way I could do that. However, I knew about his past with Jessica Stanley and I was afraid he wouldn't like this because of what had happened with her. I was nervous as fuck, worried he would reject my advances, and I was worried about how I would react if he rejected me.

With Edward's head leaning back against the window and my hands wrapped around him, I used my tongue to lick the sticky head of his dick, my eyes intent on his expression and gauging his reaction. He alerted his head as soon as he realized what I had done and I had a sudden afterthought that maybe I should have warned him, that this was exactly the same way as fucking Stanley had done it, surprised him while his eyes were closed.

"Is this okay?" I asked before he could speak, his face jolted with shock and wonder. Again that worry engaged my cognizance, the threat of rejection foreboding.

Edward's face softened, pleading in his eyes yet nonchalance in his voice, "Yeah, I mean, you don't have to." I think he added that last part to make himself feel less guilty for wanting this too. His acceptance eased my worry and I allowed a coy smile to invade my face. I paused, my lips gently resting on his tip purposely causing the anticipation to thicken. He was watching me, his eyes on my mouth, and I knew he was waiting, causing me to smile wider as I pushed him into my mouth, fully enveloping him and applying a slight suction, moving my tongue to trace every curve, line and protrusion that I could distinguish. Every action deliberate and slow, I continued to move up and down along his length, my mouth and hands working together, all in the endeavor to bring him that lustrous level of erotic enlightenment.

I felt Edward's hand sliding up my leg, gripping the back of my thigh, the skin beneath his fingers flowing with electric charges. His fingers grazed the center of my panties and I continued to whirl, my tongue applying more pressure as I pressed my lips around him more tightly, matching the intensity of my own yearning now, internally begging for Edward to just fucking do it already. I mean, shit, my ass was conveniently placed allowing the easiest access imaginable and Edward was rubbing my underwear? Karma again, rearing its ungrateful head and making yet another appearance at an inopportune time, reminded me of my taunting and teasing just seconds ago.

Just as I had made up my mind to further the situation myself, Edward finally slipped his fingers into the soft cotton, pushing his fingers into me and eliciting a moan that was only muted by having him in my mouth. The ease to the anticipation was immediate and once again, Edward inside me, even in this fashion, satiated that need for fulfillment. To have him connected this way, to know a part of me so hidden from all others, engaged all my emotions and I craved to engage him fully.

Edward pushed the hair from my face and his hands tingling in my hair sent shivers spiraling down my spine. His fingers lingered on my neck and he removed his hand from between my legs. This lack of contact caused panic to rise in my chest, my heart racing, and I needed him back. I was desperate for the distraction, fearful of the bile that would surely resurface if I let Edward remove himself from me. _"I feel renewed, I feel disabled by these bonfires in my spine…"_

I slithered into his lap, pressing my panties into him and I could feel the wetness on my thigh, his dick pressing into the crease of my groin. Fuck, he was so close, if I shifted only slightly I could have him inside me, easy and comfortably natural and it was at once clear to me that this was where he was supposed to be.

"Bella," he gasped, surprised and maybe even a little fearful. I wanted to reassure him that it was what I wanted so I told him it was okay, desperate in my attempts to convince him that it really was the most natural and beautiful thing that we could do for each other, but I don't think any of my words came out that eloquently so I stopped with the verbal explanation and continued with the physical one. I adjusted onto him fully, my panties pushed against his hardness pressing into me and rubbing against my clit. The tiny amount of material was almost inconsequential and I rocked on top of him, the heat and wetness saturating my underwear and pulsing, the blood rushing through this area and pounding in the flesh. I could have continued the grinding and it would have sufficed, but I was stubbornly intent on that connection.

Before I could slide into position he spoke, and the words were deafening.

"Bella, not here, okay? Not in your truck at the drive-in. I mean, it's only our first date." Rejection. He was rejecting me. The connection, the natural beautiful sharing, he didn't want it.

And I was a freak because I did.

I felt like such a moron! Why would he want me? My obsessive need to have Edward a part of me was becoming increasingly obvious and I'm sure as soon as he realized his hold on me, he would leave. Why would he stay? There wasn't anything interesting or special about me that made it worthwhile enough for him to stay. The thought of my existence minus Edward caused my stomach to bend and twist, the meager contents rising in my throat, and I actually had to swallow back the vomit. I had to leave, get out of this truck before I made a fool of myself again. I turned to anger, recalling his words and purposely using them against him.

I squinted my eyes, pulled out my best mean face, and shouted, "What do you mean by that? Are you insinuating I'm some kind of slut or something?" Guilt burned at this deceit but I was operating on self-preservation now.

"Of course not, Bella, I'm just saying, not now, not here," Edward tried to explain. He was giving me an excuse, trying to let me down easy. He continued, "I mean, your dad would kill me."

I was just going to ignore his excuses. I was going to pretend to be angry with him and leave until I had time to think about what Edward was becoming to me. I wanted to meditate on the fact that I had never felt comfort, I had never been happy to be engaging in life, never been at ease with being myself until now, until Edward. I needed to assess what this meant and how horribly it was going to hurt when Edward was done with me. I needed to wallow in the anticipated pain so that when it happened it wouldn't crush me. Because it would happen, it always did. Normally I would just bail first, but this wasn't the normal situation and I didn't know what the fuck I was going to do.

But then Edward mentioned my father and for a slight moment I was distracted.

"Fuck my dad, Edward!" I responded furiously, the fact that Edward would use that as an excuse was infuriating. My father had no right to even be considered, his impact on my decisions negligible, coinciding with his willingness to be involved in my existence. That Edward used my father's feelings as an excuse not to fuck me caused an involuntary heave, the aftertaste of chocolate and lemon and peppermint burning the back of my throat as I choked back the bile so I could continue my rant.

"And what the hell are we waiting for? Don't you want me like that? Don't you want this?" Fat tears were rolling down my cheeks now because I already knew the answer, my brain circulating back to self-preservation. I had to get out of there before he voiced the words confirming my fears and cementing the idea in my brain. Once again anger became my ally. I think I told him to go fuck himself or something and got the hell out of that truck. The compulsion to puke was rising again and I only narrowly escaped spilling the contents of my stomach in front of a boy that didn't need another excuse to not want to have sex with me.

I ran to the restroom, the ballerina flats slapping against the pavement, my skirt all twisted from Edward's hands beneath it and tangling in my running legs. This only made the tears flow more freely, blinding and hot as they streaked down my face, frustrated with the reasons why I had wanted to even wear this skirt in the first place.

When I arrived at the restroom I found it thankfully empty. I entered a stall and kneeled over the toilet, sweat beading on my forehead, the unease and discomfort in my abdomen taunting, calling me a fucking failure, and I had to dispose of this bully. I shoved my fingers in my mouth and gagged, the contents of my stomach coming up easily this time and spilling into the toilet before me. I spat, failure chanting in my mind. Failure, failure, failure. It was all I could think of: failed at Edward, at our date, at being normal, at eating, at Charlie, a big fucking failure at life. I sobbed over the toilet, fucking hating myself for ruining the date, for what Edward must be thinking right now after the way I had spoken to him. I knew he didn't think I was a slut or anything, he just didn't want me like I wanted him, and he couldn't really be blamed for that. I was to blame for all of this.

I spat into the toilet again, my hair in my mouth and sticking to my face, when I heard a voice outside the stall door.

"Bella?" Edward was in the fucking women's restroom.

"What are you doing in here?" I sobbed. Fuck! I wasn't ready for him to see this, to know this, not now, not here.

"Are you okay? Are you sick?" he asked, worry thick in his voice. I couldn't do this anymore. I either had to give this up or give up Edward. The fact that I even had to think about it made a sob well in my heart again and fresh tears spilled over my cheeks.

"Yeah, Edward. I'm fucking sick." Defeat was worming its way into my consciousness. I wanted Edward to comfort me again like he had after the party. I wanted his hand on my back, his soothing touch, his lips on my forehead. I wanted him to help me.

Edward said the words that I longed to hear. "Come out. I'll take you home."

I wiped my face with the sleeve of the black shirt, trying to wait until the redness and swelling diminished. I finally opened the stall door to find Edward standing on the other side, his mouth creased with consternation and fear, and I felt like shit knowing I had caused that.

He pulled me into his capable arms and led me to the truck. Edward opened the passenger side door and helped me in, even fastening my seatbelt for me. I just sat there, my hair sticking to my sweaty face, a fucking zombie, even the fact that he was buckling my seatbelt like I was a four year old didn't bother me like it normally would. It just made me feel worse because it was so fucking considerate, the regard he was taking with me, all the while making promises, guarantees that I criminally found hope in.

Edward started the truck and pulled out of the drive-in and onto the highway. He was driving fast, my truck grunting its dissent, the cab shaking and threatening to self destruct. I looked over at Edward, a wild glare in his eyes. Shit! He's freaking out. I've totally freaked him out.

"Edward, slow down! You're going to murder my truck," I said, trying to distract him.

Edward didn't say anything. He looked over at me, inquiring, speculating, wondering, a stew of scrutiny simmering in his gaze. I searched the floor of the truck for my jacket. I still had that vomit taste in my mouth and needed a peppermint badly. I could see Edward out of the corner of my eye, not wanting to make eye contact for fear he would see the shame in my expression. He continued to watch me, not paying nearly enough attention to the road upon which he was driving my ancient vehicle at high velocities. I needed a peek at Edward, an attempt to decipher his thought process. Still bent over and searching the floor, I glanced up at him from behind my massive shroud of snarled hair.

He was staring at me, his handsome features illuminated by the lights of the highway blurring past us in multicolored streaking fluorescence. He wasn't even attempting to watch the road now, his eyes fixated on my every movement. _"He sees the damage in my face..."_

"Edward, maybe you should pull over. I don't think you should drive like this," I said cautiously, pushing my hair behind my ear so I could see him more clearly. What was the matter with him? He was a little frantic to get me home after the restroom, sure, but this was something different, there was something uncontrollable in his actions, a frenzy almost, like a fucking shark discovering blood in the water.

He moved slightly, glancing to the road and then straight back at me, his eyes dark with theory, hypothesizing the cause of tonight's events I'm sure. Yep, he was connecting the fucking dots and soon he would have a pretty disgusting picture of what I truly was.

Finally finding my coat I reached into the pocket and pulled out a mint. I unwrapped the hard red and white striped candy and popped it into my mouth, the cool tingle of the sweet, fresh flavor resonating in my nostrils. I relaxed into the seat, leaning against the back window and trying to calm the tornado of emotions going on inside me with meditative chants.

Instead of calm, chaos erupted as Edward slammed on the brakes causing the truck to swerve and fishtail to a stop beneath a poorly lit bridge, the steel structure green and glistening in the damp and dull glare of the streetlamp. My head flew forward, the momentum causing shit to pitch and roll around my feet and the next force slamming me back against the seat. My heart was pounding in my chest, the smell of burnt rubber sticking to my lungs made my breathing erratic, and I wanted to fucking punch Edward in the face. I settled on verbal abuse instead.

"What the fuck? Are you trying to fucking kill us?" I screeched, my white-knuckled hands clutching the dashboard, trying to extinguish the automatic response to the adrenaline now shooting through my veins.

Edward stared out the windshield, conviction playing upon his lips.

"What's with the fucking mints, Bella?" Edward's voice was calm and quiet.

Shit! I didn't know if I could do this, if I could actually say the words _eating disorder_ to him. I knew as soon as he found out he was going to try to help me, try to find a way to solve this for me, and I was going to want to instinctively push him away. I didn't trust myself to be what I should for Edward, I was scared shitless I would disappoint him, make him feel like a failure because he couldn't help me.

But what if he could? I had to admit, everything that I had been feeling with Edward lately was new to me. _Everything_, the attachment, the connection, the desire…I had never...never cared before, never wanted to care. What if Edward was the difference? What if I could be different with him?

I could try. I think I could really try, but he couldn't know. I couldn't stand it if he were constantly watching over me, treating me like an invalid, buckling my seatbelt like a fucking four year old in our every interaction. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if Edward thought of me like that, weak and broken, a burden for him to carry. No, I could do this on my own. Edward had already made a difference without any knowledge of my problem.

Diversion is the key to self-preservation. Divert and conquer.

"What? What are you talking about?" I asked him, ignorance my ally.

"Fuck, Bella, that's all I can fucking smell on you, those damn mints." Edward put his hands in his hair and ran them down his face, bringing them to his chin and looking at me finally. "What is with the mints, Bella?"

Diversion thickened in my resolve and I swallowed. It had to be done if any of this was going to work.

"What is with your parents, Edward?" I stared directly into his eyes, hoping he wouldn't be able to dispute my request and reminding him of his own diversion.

Edward's eyes bore into mine, intense and decisive emeralds, their hue agonizing and conflicted as he determined whether or not to share this part of himself with me.

He turned his eyes to the steering wheel, tracing the curve with his finger. "They're dead," he shrugged.

"How?" I asked, quietly intrigued. He was quiet for a long time, just running his fingers along the curve of the wheel. I scooted closer, reaching out to take his hand and bringing it to my lips. I had known it would be difficult but I hadn't really given credence to exactly what it must be doing to Edward, how it must tear him up to have to relive this so that I could have my selfish diversion. More than the selfish diversion though, I wanted to know what extinguished that fire in him. What brought him back to the brink of self control every time?

"He was always gone, working late into the night, sometimes neglecting to come home at all," Edward said softly, one of his hands in mine, the other still running along the circle.

"I didn't see it, you know. I didn't even fucking know. I started to notice weird shit though. The police would call my mom, saying they picked him up in some bar and he would be muttering the strangest things, accusing my mom of affairs, of turning Alice and me against him. My mom would pick him up at the station while he ranted about how everyone was out to get him, the police, the partners in his law firm, my mother, Alice, me. Everyone just accepted it, turned the other cheek because it was easier than admitting the truth." I guessed he was talking about his father, the image from the picture in the Cullens' hallway still vivid in my memory. I brought my other hand to his face, tracing the bones of his cheeks and jaw before running my hands to his hair, trying to smooth the coppery mess.

Edward continued, "My father started using drugs, mostly pot, sometimes coke and probably other shit I didn't know about. I'd heard him tell my mom it made him feel more normal, like he could deal with some of the fucked up things he was facing. But, then he'd get violent. He'd get into fights at bars, destroy things. Once, when I was ten, he had said that he saw the devil's face in the wallpaper in my bedroom. He took a crowbar and started ripping up the drywall. When I was thirteen, he said I had the devil's voice. He locked me in my room, keeping "the devil" at bay, prisoner, for the good of mankind. He never physically hurt me really, he'd just slap me around, it was mostly mental and emotional shit. He never touched Alice or my mom though. Maybe he knew I could take it, I could be a man.

And my mother just accepted it. She loved him, cared for him, playing nurse to him when he would come down from one of his episodes, holding his head in her lap, stroking his face and hair, soothing him, even after the horrid things he would say or do to us, she loved him. She just fucking accepted it." Edward wiped the corner of his eye, a few tears already welling in his green lashed ovals, and turned to look at me, anguish caught in his face as he debated what to say next.

"He killed her. Two years ago he stabbed her in the chest. I thought there would have been more blood, but when Alice and I got home from school she looked like she could have been sleeping. She was on the bed, on her back, her eyes closed. And at first we couldn't find him, my father. But I knew that it was his fault, somehow. Alice ran and locked herself in the bathroom, curling up in the bathtub. I was glad, she was safer there. I called 911. I didn't touch her, I couldn't, not even to check for a pulse because I knew she was gone. And I wanted to find him, to kill him myself. I would have, too. I wanted to just beat the living shit out of him for making us live that way, fearful, paranoid, ashamed. It turned out he wouldn't give me the satisfaction. I found his body in his office, slumped over his desk, his self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head spilling onto his latest deposition. And I felt relief at finding him like this, relief that he could no longer torment us and relief that my mother wouldn't have to live through the pain of finding him like this." Edward turned to face me now with tears on his cheeks and I brought my fingers to his face in an attempt to dry them. Edward grabbed the hand that rested on his cheek, bringing it to his lips and kissing it softly.

"My father had schizophrenia. It's a genetic disease. That might be me someday, Bella. And it could be you. I could hurt you if I'm not careful. I already have." Edward brought his fingers to rest on the curve in my neck, smoothing one spot over and over with firm pressure.

"I did this, I made this mark, because I couldn't control myself." Edward brought his hand to his face, covering his eyes, his face distorted in pain. I had no idea what he was talking about so I pulled down the visor and looked at the spot he had been rubbing in the mirror. There was a small bruise on my neck, reddish brown. A hickey, it was just a fucking hickey. Edward was freaking out over a goddamn hickey.

"If I let myself slip just once, it could all be over," Edward continued. "I'm scared shitless, Bella. I don't know what the fuck I'm doing."

I couldn't take it, all the shit he was saying. It just seemed so far removed from the situation at hand, so distant and circumstantial. If, could be, might…they were all words of little real bearing, all speculative in nature, but it all suddenly made sense to me. His reluctance at first, the fighting, the anti-drug attitude, even the avoidance of real sex. Edward didn't know how to do this, this being normal shit. He'd always just kind of lived in a box, a scary, emotionally scarring box. Trust me, I knew this place well and my entire being ached for him.

"Edward, I'm scared too," I told him, crawling into his lap again, this time with a different agenda. I wrapped my arms around his waist, burrowing into him and just immersing myself in his very being. "Everyone's fucked up. Everyone has issues. It's just a matter of finding someone whose issues fucking mesh with yours the best, finding out what level of fucked up can you live with. And I know what I can't live without," I whispered into his chest and neck. Edward folded his arms tighter around my frame, curling into a ball with me at the center, magnetic mass holding us together and pressed his face into my shoulder. Warm and wet spilled onto my sleeve, and I kissed his cheek, breathing and inhaling the salty remnants of his lost family and childhood that was currently saturating my shirt.

I don't know how long we stayed under that bridge but when the first mockingbirds of the morning began to sing and flutter, Edward drove me home. I was exhausted, mentally drained and defeated. During the night, Edward had told me everything, every little disturbing detail about his family. He told me his mother, Elizabeth, and father, Edward Sr., met in high school and how they were married the summer after they graduated. Elizabeth had worked two jobs, sustaining their need for cash while his father had gone to college and became a lawyer. It was supposed to be Elizabeth's turn for educational enlightenment but she had gotten pregnant and gave up any hopes for a career after she had Edward, just another sacrifice for the love and life she had chosen at such a young age.

He explained how he had taken over as caregiver for Alice when his mother was occupied with their father, how he'd pack their lunches, get her ready for school and help her with homework after they walked home. Alice would sleep in his bed during their father's episodes, and he would hide from his father under the bed or in the closet when the threat was more severe. Edward talked about the kinds of things his father would do during his psychosis. His father had once poured paint into every cooking pot they owned, placing the pans around the house, and his mother had just let the paint dry and ruin the cookware because she was too frightened to move them.

Edward talked more about the day he found them dead, how Carlisle came to arrange the funeral and then brought them to Forks. He was fifteen when that shit happened, forced to grow up at fifteen, and I couldn't imagine myself in his or Alice's position. I just listened to him talk, letting him vent his anger, his pain giving in to the sadness and mourning the loss, something I don't think he had ever gotten the chance to do.

While Edward talked about his father, I thought about my own. There were some things from when I was a kid that I remembered about my father and they were pleasant, happy even. His smells, his cooking, the way his moustache tickled my cheek when he would kiss me goodnight, I used to dwell on them, searched for them when I could, trying to regain that innocence of my youth. When Renee took me from Forks and Charlie disappeared from my life, I was forced to mourn the demise of my childhood and ultimately my relationship with my father. I said my goodbyes, thinking I'd never get another chance to see him, to smell his aftershave and tobacco, to talk to him or feel his whiskery face on mine. When I lived in Phoenix I never talked about him to the people I knew there. He was a distant and painful memory of what my life could have been. I wasn't given any explanations, left to internalize the blame for my father's absence. My mother had always made it clear that she hadn't wanted children, that I was a mistake. I assumed he had felt that way too. I didn't know for sure but when he neglected to try to find me, when I didn't hear from him for seven years, the suspicion was pretty much confirmed.

I was only beginning to realize that maybe Charlie wasn't what he seemed, that maybe I had been wrong in my assumptions and now I was panicking. Charlie had come very close to dying during his heart attack, he could potentially die still, the threat only weeks abated. Edward's confession about his father ignited a desperation in me to renew the relationship with my own dad, experience all the things a child wants from their parent. I wanted him to worry about me and lecture me when I came home late, track me down when I didn't call him with my whereabouts. I wanted him to teach me how to change the oil in my truck or a flat tire so I wouldn't have to rely on some boy to do it for me. More than anything, I wanted him to cook me dinner, like he used to when I was younger, remembering to crush the tomatoes extra fine because he knew I didn't like my sauce chunky and I wanted to be able to enjoy it without suffocating in guilt.

Without some drastic lifestyle changes, Charlie was in deep shit. He was still severely overweight, suffering from a variety of life threatening illnesses ranging from sleep apnea to diabetes, and there was still the dread of complications from the surgery, the strain on his heart ever present. His body wasn't going to last forever and I almost felt like we were operating on borrowed time as it was, Charlie's heart a ticking bomb, and that we were just waiting for it to explode. I had been offered a second chance here, an epiphany brimming in my awareness. I had come here to help Charlie under the pretense of satisfying my own Karmic unease, my failures as a daughter and a friend most prevalent in that disquiet, but maybe that's not the reason I was here at all. Edward was indirectly responsible for this realization, his intensity and warmth in our interactions offering a sharp contrast to the indifference I was used to. Edward had really never known his father, the disease claiming his existence before Edward could. His confession made me reconsider my unease with Karma, that maybe I had it all wrong. Coming to Forks wasn't my Karmic obligation, it was a gift, an opportunity to have something I would have never had otherwise…a father. And if I was patient enough, maybe I could have love too.

**A/N**

Again, Amers, thank you so much for your assistance with Psychological babble!! I appreciate it so much!!

Joni songs:

In France They Kiss on Main Street

Come in From the Cold

Roses Blue

What a Strange, Strange Boy

Who's sighing in relief? I am!! Review my sweeties!!


	12. Feel Proud to Say I Love Right Out Loud

**Darlings,**

Two POV's for you this chapter!

Dear, dear readers, Bella applauds all your patience and understanding! She's kind of got a lot of shit to deal with right now, the most important being her relationship with her father, even though we all want it to be the one with that boy!! And what a boy he is at that!

Some dearys are fans and spreading the love!!** mamma4ever aka I_LOVE_WA and miztrezboo you ladies are gems! Thank you for your love!!**

Oh, my dear beta, **n7of9**, read that email I sent this morning again...okay, _that_, plus a big fat thank you for the ending resuscitation. Thank you for putting your mouth on it and blowing...Oh and cookies, I'm sending you lots and lots of cookies!

***PSA***

**If anyone would like to learn more about Schizophrenia or Eating Disorders, please check out the links on my profile!! These are serious psychological diseases and deserve our attention!**

Okay enough with the chatty...

Disclaimer: It's not mine...

**CH. 12**_**-"Feeling Proud to Say I Love You Right Out Loud"**_

**BPOV**

"Hmm… I think it's better next to the window." Edward gave me a look that I recognized immediately as _you've got to be fucking kidding me_, having seen it for maybe the tenth time today. We had been moving furniture since this morning, rearranging the living room to have a better flow of energy and balance, removing the clutter and opening those energy blockages that stifle healing. Yeah, Alice got me a fucking book on feng shui and I was using the hell out of that thing. Since coming to the realization two weeks ago that this excursion to Forks was a bit of a Karma reward, I'd been a believer in all alternative methods of thinking. I'd take it, if it meant I got to have a father again and I got to be with Edward, I'd take it all. Tarot, Zodiac, Zen - bring it on.

It was now the middle of April and all of Forks was on vacation for Spring Break. In Phoenix, Spring Break was a week of lewd and vulgar behavior, everyone running around half naked, spending their week at the river on speedboats and wave runners. Something told me Forks was going to be different. It might have been the fact that it was still cool and misty and lack of clothing was not a viable option. I had been in Forks for nearly two months now and every day looked exactly the same as the day before it, overcast, gray and cold, the cloud cover resting on the horizon each morning. I missed the radiance of the sun, the rays penetrating my skin with electromagnetic energy and basking my soul in luminous efficacy. I wasn't particularly fond of the cold but I had enough here to keep me distracted, plus the cold had made my hickey-hiding scarf plausible. I had to wear a scarf for a week straight until that lovely bruise had faded.

It seemed Edward's perception had changed since revealing to me the details of his parents' deaths. He seemed a bit more at ease, like his revelation freed him from the confines of his own head. It was such a tragic story, survival of an unaffected mind inconceivable, and I mourned that loss of innocence not only for Edward, but Alice as well. She was just so tranquil and calm, the thought of her trying to fight off an attack or something was horrifying. It made the shit that I had gone through as a kid seem ridiculous and insignificant in comparison. I mean, sure, Renee was an idiot and Charlie had acted like an ass, but my wellbeing had never been in danger and the risk had never been physical harm. I never had to hide under my bed or in the bathroom because I was afraid of getting hurt in my own home by one of my parents. That had to have been petrifying, especially for a young child. I couldn't imagine my own father, someone I was supposed to be able to trust to keep me safe, becoming the ultimate aggressor. It had to have left an indelible mark upon both their psyches.

Knowing this information only furthered my resolve to wallow in anonymity, the basis for my purging deemed completely humiliating after Edward's admission. I mean, this shit was embarrassing as it was. I knew people wouldn't understand my situation, the media's portrayal of eating disorders a joke, something that only self-centered, vain rich bitches suffered from. My own mother thought it was because I wanted to be skinny. I could fucking care less about the size of my ass, the added weight would only improve my appearance. My body literally didn't know how to function anymore. I don't know how many times these past weeks I had just fucking prayed for the nausea to abate, for my body to accept the nourishment and be filled without a fight. "_I want to be strong, I want to laugh along, I want to belong to the living."_

Edward didn't need this shit, he was engulfed in turmoil much greater than mine. If I put my burden on him also, how could he focus on his own healing? And that is exactly what he needed to do. He needed to heal, the emotional bruises from his lost childhood thick and black on his soul. I made it my mission to offer Edward an escape from this fear, striving to prove to him that he would be able to engage in life and experience this world without the presence of chaos. If this meant that I kept my inconsequential purging a secret for now, then I would do it. And all the while, I would be attempting to combat my problem, struggling against my own body to overcome deprecation that had been in place for years now. But I would do it. I would do whatever I could to reassure Edward that he would not share his father's fate.

Of course, as soon as I got home the morning after our highly unconventional first date, fully awake and withholding from exhaustion, I had researched Schizophrenia. I read page upon page of information, learning about the history, lurking on message boards, reading about experimental treatments and perceived causes, until I came upon a study concerning the genetic implications of the disease. My eyes blurred from lack of sleep and I nearly passed out hovering over my laptop, but I had to make sense of Edward's fears. I wanted to know if they were fully supported with documentation or if he was mistaken, the implication made more severe from his experience with his father's psychosis.

I scrolled through the document, much of the jargon difficult to comprehend, until I found the results section of the study. From what I could gather, the estimates of heritability of Schizophrenia varied because it is difficult to separate the effects of the environment and genetics, the old nurture versus nature dilemma rearing its ugly head. The article stated that there are many genes interacting to generate risk for the disease and that sometimes they raise the risk of other psychiatric diseases. But the study also said that there was conflicting findings and that so far all theories remained unsubstantiated.

So there was a risk, but it wasn't as prominent as Edward thought it to be. Now I was conflicted because I had wanted to find out that it was all bullshit and Edward's mind would forever be brilliant and perfect, but that might not be the case. I found it ironic that just weeks ago, the second time I met Edward, we were studying this very concept in Biology, and now here I was trying to figure out if Edward was going to go crazy and hurt me and have all his fears realized at some point in time.

That morning as I lay in bed listening to the mockingbirds whistle their warnings outside my window, I thought about what this meant for me. Should I pursue this relationship, knowing it could be potentially harmful, even if the risk was miniscule? The emotional scarring would greatly outweigh the physical, my bodily preservation inconsequential. I didn't really give a shit about dying or being physically hurt, but the pain of having to see Edward deteriorate would be devastating. I had read all about the symptoms, hallucinations, delusions, apathy being the less severe, ranging to things I wouldn't be able to fathom, like motionlessness, purposeless agitation and catatonia. Would I be able to handle that? What toll would it take on my own psyche and soul if Edward _were_ to show symptoms of this debilitating disease?

And like a shock of electricity jolting through my body, causing every hair on my body to prickle with energy, the answer rang clear. It didn't fucking matter. Any of it. I would take this time I had with Edward, whether it was plagued by an unlikely psychiatric disease or not, I would take it. Because I was going to love him. I had felt it brimming in my soul for a while. I already knew he was my match, my soul mate, my very element wrapped up into one cosmically chosen being. Nature had matched me with Edward. But to love, that is a pure mixture of personality traits, choices and decisions, environmental factors creating a nurturing path of least resistance and bringing together characteristics and mannerisms that are most compatible. To have both is rare and I would be a goddamn fool to pass it up because of some possible risk of mental disease and personal safety. Even if I could only have it for a while I was going to have it, and that was by far a more enticing possibility_. "I'm a lucky girl, I found my friend."_

I scooted the coffee table over to rest in front of the two large chairs now. Charlie had gone to the hospital for some tests. He was off the pain medication now and was ready to go back to work, a nice comfy swivel chair awaiting him at the station. Carlisle had initially said he only needed to stay home for six weeks and Charlie was anxious to get back. I think he was getting sick of my persistent coaxing, but I was intent on sticking to the rehabilitation plan. Medication, check; eradicate house of tobacco and alcohol, check; daily exercise…well, we were still working on some things.

Charlie was not a fan of fitness saying that if nature had intended our bodies for exercise, sitting on his ass wouldn't be so comfortable. I was somewhat indifferent in regards to exercise, the lack of food consumption causing lack of energy which made exercise futile, but Edward had disclosed he was a runner, that it had been one of the ways he cleared his head and that before his debacle with deliberate dueling, running had been his nightly meditation. This, combined with the fact that his cousin was a prominent member of the wrestling team, made Edward about a hundred times more knowledgeable in the ways of health and fitness than I was. Edward had put together a light strength training workout, mainly consisting of careful stretches for now, and something Charlie could do in the living room or his bedroom. Charlie was supposed to walk every day too, to help pump blood through his altered arteries. So far, I hadn't seen him do any of it, but he'd finally stopped asking for steak and pipe, realizing I wouldn't be a party to his purposeful proclivity.

Once we had the furniture in a pleasing position in the living room we moved on to the kitchen and, using a couple of screwdrivers, set to work tightening the hinges on all the cabinets. It bugged the shit out of me the way the doors were always hanging open, the kitchen a ghost town and void of any life, abandoned and neglected. My resolve still fixated on renewing my existence, I was striving to bring warmth back into this kitchen and exterminate any lingering elements of indifference and disregard. _"Forgetting fear but never disregarding her."_

Edward had been teaching me how to cook too, giving me the tools to create the healthy meals that were most beneficial to Charlie. Charlie needed a diet low in cholesterol and saturated fats, which was a challenge since his preferred diet had consisted of artery hardening animal lards. All his favorites - red meats, eggs, butter, cheese - they were all to be avoided. As clueless as I was about exercise, as Edward shared his organic, natural food philosophy with me, I realized that I had become even more out of touch with food than I had thought. I mean, I knew a couple of recipes by heart, things you never forget like marinara sauce and pastina, but what Edward knew about fusing flavors and using herbs and just the whole chemical processes of certain foods, what happens when you add variant levels of heat and liquids, it was like a science to him, a wonderfully aromatic and succulent science.

Edward had a remarkable outlook on the culinary arts and food consumption, opting to use ingredients that hadn't been tainted by chemical preservatives and additives. He created a menu, consisting of whole grains, oatmeal, brown rice, and wheat and vegetable pastas, choosing foods free from complex sugars using natural sweeteners like honey or juices instead. Edward prescribed proteins low in fat, like turkey and fish, appealing to Charlie's preferences while maintaining the stipulations of the plan and using spices, juices and herbs instead of sodium and fats to add flavor. Of course, fruits and vegetables were becoming the main staple, Edward experimenting with techniques for preparing and reinventing old recipes. Charlie had a difficult time trusting Edward's cooking at first, but one meal of tarragon roasted salmon and asparagus with wheat penne later, Charlie quit his grumbling.

Charlie's terminated use of sleep inducing drugs had thrown a bit of a snarl into our late night liaisons. Don't get me wrong, it didn't actually halt the engagements from occurring, we were just paranoid as all shit Charlie would catch us in an awkward position. Charlie hadn't explicitly told me I couldn't have a boy in my room every night of the week until two in the morning, but common sense told me this probably wouldn't be allowed. Edward had suggested climbing the tree in the front yard and coming in through my window, but I refused. I didn't want to sneak around like a criminal in my own home and I certainly didn't want to subject Edward to feeling like some creepy stalker. I wasn't doing anything wrong or bad and unless Charlie prohibited it, Edward would use the front door.

I tried to hoist myself on the counter but my lack of strength made the climb embarrassingly impossible. Edward was already tightening his second door and I was still trying to get on the fucking counter. I sighed and crossed the kitchen to get a chair. I started moving the collection of crap currently utilizing the small chair when Edward, noticing my divergence from our task, turned to look at me.

"What's wrong?" Edward asked me, leaning against the counter, his arms folded across his chest. He was wearing 'work' clothes, the torn jeans frayed at the knees and a torn gray t-shirt, a Stoli's logo stretched across his torso. I thought it somewhat ironic that his shirt was promoting Vodka when he didn't even drink. It must have been one of Alice's thrift store finds, but it was fucking hot, the little holes exposing bits of Edwards skin. I kept wanting to run my fingers over the tears, and the damn shirt was like a size too small. Every time he lifted his arms that little slice of skin above the waistband of his pants would taunt me, imploring my fingers to glide across the flesh. I could see it now, my eyes roaming to the epidermal display, the concave scoop of his hips prominent and inviting. I licked my flushed lips, anxious to taste the expanse and wondering if he'd notice that fucking shirt absent from his wardrobe.

"Nothing," I replied, the fire beneath my skin forcing a rosy hue. I turned back to my task, the image burned into my brain, completely ignited and suffering from an insatiable case of vag liquification. Shit! My body's involuntary response to Edward's bare skin was beginning to border on torture.

I started to drag the chair over to the counter when Edward caught on and moved to wrap his arms around my waist. I gasped as he hoisted me up until my eyes met his, his lips just inches from mine, and I instinctively wrapped my legs around his torso, my groin pressing into that naked stretch of skin, my arms prowling up around his neck. With one hand adjusted to grip my ass and the other wrapped around my waist, he walked to the counter and set me on it, pressing into me as I pulled his face closer to mine, our eyes interlaced and waltzing in electric eagerness.

Edward was breathing quietly, his warm breath flooding over my skin, a bath of aromas swirling around my face in small whispers. He pulled away, leaving me on the countertop practically panting and thirsting for his mouth, and turned his attention back to the fucking cabinet, forcing me to ache in covetous desire.

"Um, thanks, ass," I said sarcastically. Edward was engrossed in his task, staring intently at the hinge he was promptly tightening, a small smirk hiding on his lips. I suppressed a grin of my own, trying to maintain my composure and torn between wanting to punch him in the face and the urge to dry hump him right here in the kitchen.

"Anytime," he smirked, a full smile now, and just continued to adjust the hinges.

"So what do you want for lunch?" Edward asked after few quiet moments. "I'm starving." It was only, like, eleven thirty and already the boy was hungry. Hunger for me was still an infrequent occurrence, my body forgetting to notify me when it was empty. I hadn't eaten in over seventeen hours and still my stomach was comfortably vacant. Logically, I knew I should eat, that my body needed some sort of fuel to function. However, if the choice was left up to me, I wouldn't even think about eating until I felt it in my belly, that gnawing and aching of bowels calling for satiation, and those times were few and far between.

I had been trying to eat when I was with Edward, really trying, the task made easier by the fact that his food was so incredibly satisfying to my palate. I was getting better at curbing the nausea and pressure that erupted regardless, not having purged for an entire week, a fact I found great accomplishment in. _"Today I am not prey to dark uncertainty,"_ a mantra I had to remember to take things one day at a time.

The purging was no longer fulfilling its original purpose - instead of the satisfying void I used to feel, now the emptiness was deafening, like I had eradicated a piece of Edward himself in flushing his nourishment down the toilet. Every time I felt the compulsion I remembered Edward's voice in the women's restroom, worry and pain thick with implication in his questioning of my overabundance of minty reliance, and I couldn't do it. Just like Alice's presence in the school day-smoking restroom was a deterrent, Edward's ever presence in my subconscious was changing the dynamics of my self-deprecation.

In Phoenix, nobody ever noticed my lack of eating. Renee was never home during meal times and any acquaintances I surrounded myself with were too stoned to notice, gorging themselves only when the urge to munch arose. Edward's propensity for meals, like actual times set aside just for eating, made disguising my problem a little tricky, especially when I had to engage in said meals in front of others. This threat was impossibly more evident today, because tonight I was having dinner with Edward's family before heading to La Push for a bonfire. Emmett and the wrestling team had planned a huge party on the beach. Apparently, the tide was going to be really low tonight, exposing the briny coral and sea life, the tide pools offering a glance at the world beneath the salty surface.

"Um, whatever. I think we have stuff for sandwiches or something," I replied. I had just gone to the market yesterday so the fridge was pretty stocked.

"Are you hungry?" Edward asked me, pausing his task and turning to look at me.

Shit. I had a choice here. I could lie, tell him yes and make us lunch, choke down a sandwich and spend the rest of the day suppressing the compulsion to puke because I knew tonight at Edward's house I was going to have to eat again. Or, I could tell him the truth, that I wasn't hungry, make him lunch and watch him eat while he stared at me wondering why I didn't want to share in the habitual feeding with him, causing him to become suspicious and question my previous behavior, quite possibly nurturing that seed of realization that had undoubtedly been festering in his mind.

And then I realized that this was just like the sneaking through the window thing. Edward deserved to know the truth, always and about everything. So I decided that I would no longer lie. I would give him the truth, let him draw his own conclusions, and I wouldn't deny any of it when he figured it out, I'd deal with the repercussions. It was a way that I could begin to let go of my secret, a way that I could begin to deal with the fact that this piece of comfort that I could control was no longer under my control. When Edward told me about his parents, when he offered me freely that piece of himself, I had relinquished that control to Edward and I hadn't even been aware of the transition. It wasn't everything, but it was a start.

"Um, not really. But I can make you something," I said lightly, trying not to make this a big deal.

Edward stopped tightening the screw and turned fully towards me, his gaze appraising. "Did you eat breakfast?" he asked, his arms folding across his chest.

Fuck! Are you serious? What are the odds that I decide on honesty and he decides to question at the same exact time? Fucking Karma.

I was tempted to revert back to cowardly liar but I fought the urge, the photograph of Edward's father flashing through my mind.

"No, I wasn't hungry." I took a deep breath and looked down instinctively and I could actually feel Edward's eyes on me, burning into my now hot face. This honesty thing was going to be excruciating.

"You weren't hungry for breakfast? Did you eat a big dinner last night?" Edward wasn't going to let it go, he was pressing and I was instantly reminded of my reasoning in withholding this information in the first place. Repercussions be damned, I wasn't going to be able to deal with twenty questions at every meal time.

"No! Edward, fuck. The last time I ate was lunch with you and Alice yesterday, alright?" I snapped, filled with regret.

"And you're not hungry?" He ignored my tone and focused on getting information. Edward was searching for answers, an investigator looking for clues. He knew something was up, his suspicious behavior making this evident, but his questioning proving he just didn't know what.

"No. I'm just not hungry," I shrugged.

"Will you eat a sandwich if I make you one?" Edward asked, formulating the question quickly.

Edward already knew the answer to this, I'm sure. "Sure," I said, defeated.

The front door swung open with a clang, causing me to startle at the distraction. "Bella!" Charlie called from the living room.

"Kitchen!" I replied, still refusing to look at Edward and grateful for the break in questioning.

Charlie's large form groaned into the kitchen, nodding a salutation to Edward and assessing our task at hand. "Living room looks interesting."

"Thanks," I said. "What did Carlisle say?"

"Blood pressure's still high, incision's okay, still gotta stick to the list." Charlie said this last one with a scowl.

"I don't think that the list is ever going away, Dad. I think the list is pretty much for life." I hated to burst his bubble but coddling was not going to make Charlie realize that this shit was serious.

Charlie scoffed, muttering something under his breath that I decided to just let go, my mind otherwise occupied.

"Do you want lunch, I think Edward was going to make sandwiches?" Edward had been quiet in contemplation throughout the exchange and as I glanced over at him, he met my eyes, calculation still in his gaze.

"Naw, I'm not really hungry. I stopped at the store on the way home. I'm goin' to work on some of my lures." Charlie held up a bag from Newton's Sporting Goods.

"I've got to go anyway, actually," Edward finally spoke, shocking the hell out of me. I had thought we'd be leaving for his house this evening together.

"What?" I asked, uncomfortable with the amount of time Edward would have to meditate on my answers to his questions.

"I need to go to the market and get everything prepared and marinating," Edward replied. This was a good excuse, maybe even a real one, but the paranoia in me thought it a diversionary tactic so he could escape. He may have seen this in my expression because his own face softened and a smile spread across his lips.

I couldn't help but return the grin. "Okay," I said, unable to disguise the disappointment in my voice.

"I'm going upstairs if you need me." Charlie made a beeline for the stairs, sensing a public display of affection that he didn't want to be witness to.

Edward pulled me into his arms as soon as Charlie left the room. He kissed my forehead as I wrapped my arms around his waist. "I'm sorry about the fucking questions, Bella," Edward said softly into my hair.

"Don't apologize for that. You can ask me whatever you want," I replied. "I'm sorry I can't control my bitchiness." I pushed my face into his maybe soon to be mine hot Stoli shirt, the material threadbare and soothing, inhaling the scent of fresh laundry and soap.

"Well, you were provoked." Edward twirled the end of my ponytail, his other hand running up and down my back.

"So, you think I was acting bitchy?" I pulled back, teasing.

'Oh, no, no, no. I'm not even dignifying that with a response. That's a fucking trap, right there." Edward laughed.

"So, do you really have to go grocery shopping or are you just trying to get out of chores?" I moved my arms to his neck, running my fingers into his hair, twirling the loops and curls at the base of his neck.

He moved his face very close to mine, running the tip of his nose along the base of my jaw and into the space directly below my earlobe, placing a slow, sucking kiss on the spot and sending shivers across my skin.

"Like I'd pass up watching you do chores, what with all the bending and stretching and such. Do you have any idea how good your ass looks in those pants?" Edward whispered into my ear, his lips grazing the lobe as he spoke, his hands slithering down my back to clutch the aforementioned area.

Instinctively, my fingers tightened in his hair, pulling his mouth closer into my neck. Thinking about wrapping my legs around him again but remembering that Charlie was upstairs, I refrained, opting to press my chest against his instead.

"Fuck, Edward, you can't just say things like that and expect there to be no consequences," I breathed into his ear now, licking the lobe and bringing it between my teeth.

"Oh, I was fully anticipating consequences, Bella. In fact, I was banking on it." Edward pulled my hips into his, his strong fingers tight on my flesh. He pushed his lips onto mine with gentle pressure, thrusting his tongue into my mouth and twirling fervently, the kiss frantic and fast, my hands still twisted into the length of his coppery hair and pulling with every thrust of his tongue. He pulled away first, both of us out of breath, and pressed his forehead to mine. My chest was heaving against his, my head fuzzy from the lack of oxygen. I probably would have stubbornly kept kissing him until unconsciousness ensued. Thank God, one of us has common sense. "_Oh starbright, starbright, you've got the lovin' that I like, all right."_

"I really do have to go to the market, Bella. And now it's going to be a very uncomfortable trip." Edward kissed the tip of my nose and I pushed my body against his swelling bulge in an attempt to keep him here.

"Bella!" he gasped. "Seriously, Charlie's upstairs. And I really do have to go."

"I know," I pouted, placing a soft, gentle kiss on his lips. I walked Edward out to his car, leaning against his door. "So, are you going to give me directions to your house or what?"

"I'll pick you up. We'll just leave for La Push from my house." Edward stood across from me.

"Okay. Who's going to be at dinner?" I asked, hopeful we'd be dining without Rosalie and knowing it was all in vain.

"Just all of us, and Rosalie," Edward responded, confirming my suspicion, a scowl inadvertently forced upon my face.

"I know," was all Edward needed to say. "Okay, I'm going to go. I'll pick you up at around five or five thirty, depending on how preparations for dinner are going."

"That's fine. Whenever. I could come over early even, if you want. I could watch you cook." I smiled at the prospect, that black apron muddling my brain.

"Okay. I'll call you when I get back from the store to see if you're ready." Edward was smiling too, appreciating my alternate plan. He gave me a quick kiss and I moved away from his car, walking into the house as he drove off, anticipating a very interesting evening ahead of me.

…

**EPOV**

I opened the oven for the tenth time, checking the potatoes and wiping the sweat off my forehead on Bella's hip which happened to be inconceivably close to my face.

"Edward! I have to wear these pants all night you know!" Bella was stirring the marinara on the stovetop. She'd been driving me fucking crazy all day, first this morning with her black pants, the thick waistband all folded over, making them even lower on her hips than necessary. Shit, and the way the material felt in my hands, thin and stretchy when I grabbed her ass in her kitchen, the material pulling and sliding against her skin, fucking visualizing the flesh beneath the clinging fabric. It was fucking painful, both emotionally and physically, plagued by a wicked boner as I headed out to the market to get some groceries for tonight's dinner.

And then I pick her up and she's wearing these fucking tight-ass jeans, the bottoms scrunched around her ankles and, like, five shirts, two of them thermal, and her corduroy jacket. Did she think we were going to Antarctica? She insisted on helping me with dinner, claiming she wanted to pick up cooking tips, but I swear she just wanted to torture me with her tight jeans, more bending and stretching while getting pans from the cabinet and reaching for spices on the shelves. Fuck, this girl's ass was going to kill me. They'd have to inscribe it on my headstone, _"Death by Blue Balls". _

"You don't have to wear pants. I think it'd be far more interesting if you weren't actually," I teased. Bella was going to have dinner with my family and then we were going to La Push Beach for a bonfire. Normally, I wouldn't be caught dead doing this kind of shit, but Emmett was sort of conspiring the whole thing, so I felt obligated. Plus, I'd have a chance to show Bella the tide pools, something I think she'd enjoy. There was also this really secluded spot where kids went to make out and shit, up on one of the cliffs overlooking the ocean. I thought that might be kind of fun too.

Bella snorted at my comment, scraping the sides of the saucepan with the spatula. "Yeah, that'd be priceless, my scantily clad ass at your dinner table." I'd be a fucking liar if I didn't cop to picturing that shit, Bella's bare ass on the dining table. Fuck, I was pretty sure hell had a parking spot with my name on it.

I pulled the potatoes from the oven using my apron as a guard against the heat, setting them on the counter and turning off the oven. Tonight I was making gnocchi with marinara, the light potato dumpling a fantastic alternative to traditional pasta. The trick to gnocchi was to bake the potatoes in the skin instead of boiling them. Boiling causes them to absorb too much water, making them rubbery and heavy. The baked potatoes produced a much fluffier and lighter dumpling.

Once the potatoes had cooled I scraped the flesh of the potato from the skin, spooning it into a large bowl and whisking with a fork. Mixing the egg, flour and salt into the potato, I used my hands to combine the ingredients until they formed a pliable ball of dough.

I looked up realizing I hadn't heard from Bella in a while, my mind occupied by the mixture before me. Bella was staring at me, her velvet eyes wide and absorbing, her mouth slightly opened, displaying her top white teeth through her full glossed lips. They spread into a smile when she realized she'd been caught, her eyes darting down to the dough in my hands.

"You're really good at that, you know, you look like you know what you're doing, like it's second nature or something," Bella commented, her eyes still on my hands.

I shrugged. "I've got a knack for it, I guess. It just makes sense to me." I threw some flour onto the cutting board and began to pull portions of the dough and roll them into the dumplings.

Bella walked over to where I was working and began to pull portions of the mixture, mirroring my technique and placing the gnocchi on the floured cookie sheet. We worked in comfortable silence, our hands lingering when they accidentally touched, and because I couldn't help it, I leaning down to kiss her cheek a couple of times.

I hadn't felt the bomb in weeks. Since I'd told Bella about my parents it seemed that the bomb had somewhat been diffused. I didn't hear it ticking in my head anymore, the only sound in my head now was Joni fucking Mitchell. Yeah, she'd got me listen to that shit. I mean, I'm regularly not a fan of high-pitched sappy metaphorical poetry put to piano, but it was a part of her, a huge part, and I wanted to know that part, really know it so I could understand when she quoted one of Joni's songs and so I knew what the fuck she was trying to say.

I knew exactly what made me decide to tell Bella about my parents. I was afraid, fearful of my fucking shadow, worried that if Bella knew what I could become she'd run. She'd leave and the best thing that I'd found in this life would be gone.

I'm not a fucking idiot. Something was up with Bella, something she was keeping from me. I could fucking smell it on her, those mints a dead giveaway. I honestly didn't know precisely what she was being so secretive about but I'd seen enough shit in my life to have some suspicions. I had spent some time looking at the evidence.

For one thing, she was fucking skinny as all shit. Sometimes I worried I was hurting her when we were making out, bruising her fucking bones, the way they jutted out all over the place, her skin taut and stretched. Don't get me wrong, I loved feeling her, every part of her, I just thought there should be a bit more to feel. I don't think there was an ounce of fat on her body. This could be due to the fact that she was all weird about eating. The way she looked at food, well, it was like she was looking at a fucking corpse or something, smelling everything before tasting it. Usually she ate what I cooked, but I'd rarely seen her eat anything else. She did eat the peppermint patties and then proceeded to throw up. And then there were the fucking mints.

Bella was an emotional mess, getting off one minute then crying the next. She had a somewhat short fuse, irrationally pissed over things that weren't that big of a deal. She smoked cigarettes and sucked on hard candy. She'd already proved that she liked to party, getting plastered and smoking weed and then associating with well known drug dealers.

I was like ninety percent sure Bella had a drug problem.

The other ten percent was sure it was a mixture of various psychological disorders.

I didn't expect Bella to come at me with something like that. I mean, really, she'd only known me two months. You don't just come right out with your life story after two months. But you also don't call someone your soul mate after two months and I was sure as shit doing that. My connection with Bella was different than anything I'd ever experienced and I was pretty sure she felt it too.

So I fucking told her. I swallowed my fears and I told her everything with the hope that maybe she'd feel comfortable telling me someday. I didn't expect her to spill that night, honestly, I didn't. She wouldn't have done that, and besides, she was too busy consoling my blubbering ass. I just wanted to make sure she knew that I wasn't going anywhere, that I've got shit in my past too.

Sometimes, when she'd look at me, I could just see it in her eyes so close to the brim, the purse in her quavering lips just struggling to form the words, and I knew she wanted to tell me, just lay it all out there. But she never did. And I knew why. I had been in the same predicament, my heavy secret weighing thick on my being. I hadn't wanted to share it with her because I was scared shitless she would leave. Maybe she was scared too.

…

Accepting Bella's help was surprisingly easy. I really didn't know how it would be to have help in the kitchen and with dinner. I'd always preferred to work alone and I always denied anyone when they offered to help, but Bella didn't offer to help, she just did it, and I didn't even have the chance to dispute her. We'd gotten shit done in record time too, Bella setting the table leaving me free to plate the dish.

My family was seated around the large table, Esme and Rose immersed in trivial conversation. Carlisle was reading some paperwork of some kind, an article or journal or something. Alice and Emmett were discussing this episode of Top Gear they'd just been watching and were debating the performance superiorities between an Aston Martin Vanquish and Porsche 911.

"Emmett, the 911 is like a classic. My dream car would be a yellow 1968 Porsche 911 with sweet wheels and black interior. That would be hot." Alice really knew nothing about cars or she would have waited another year to get the '69 which was quicker in acceleration.

"Whatever dude, that Vanquish is foxy. I want to make sweet, sweet love to that car," Emmett replied, nodding his head in grotesque undulations.

"Emmett!" Esme had overheard their conversation, scolding her son and giving him an exasperated glare.

"What? Everyone does it, Mom." Emmett noticed me walking into the dining room and started clapping, starting off real slow and getting faster as I walked towards the table. "Come on guys, I started with the slow clap. You guys gotta do the splattering background applause." Fuck, Emmett was in one of his 'funny' moods tonight, you know when you think everything you do is the most hilarious thing ever uttered. And he wasn't even drunk yet.

Alice jumped up to help as Bella was carrying in the salad, giving me a dirty-ass look in the process.

"Edward, dude, you made our guest serve us? What is wrong with you?" Alice ushered Bella to a seat, which happened to be next to Rosalie. I could see Bella's whole being just tense up as she took the seat. Rosalie turned her body ever so slightly so that the back of her shoulder was facing Bella. Now it was my turn to throw the dirty looks, glaring at Alice, _what the fuck_ my intended message.

I put the gnocchi on the table, taking my seat on the other side of Bella and across from Alice, giving her a little kick under the table as I was adjusting my seat.

"Ow, Edward, watch it, ass." It was the second time I'd been called that today, this reason much, much different from the first.

As everyone filled their plates I noticed Bella had a substantial amount of salad and not very much gnocchi at all, maybe six or seven dumplings, but I suppressed the urge to ask her if everything was okay. I needed to stop that shit, seriously. After the shit in the kitchen this morning, I had to minimize my urge to question the shit out of every move Bella made. She had to know that I would accept any flaw that she had because I knew she'd accept mine.

"Hey Bella, how do you like your gah-nocchi?" Emmett mispronounced it on purpose, something he does every time I make it. I rolled my eyes and was about to explain when Bella responded.

"It's gah-awesome, Emmett." Bella giggled at Emmett's dumb joke and I pretended I didn't hear Bella's response, afraid it might lower the pedestal I had her upon. "Seriously, Edward, it's delicious. You really have a gift."

Rosalie, who'd been quiet for, like, the past week, finally found her voice and unfortunately ruined a perfectly good dinner conversation by bringing up the future. "Hasn't Edward told you Bella? He's going to apply at this culinary institute in Italy."

Fucking cuntwords, that's all I could think of. Cuntface, cunthead, dumbcunt…I could go on and on. Rosalie wasn't singing my praises, she was trying to start an argument, trying to make Bella feel insecure.

Bella looked over at me and smiled, excitement in her eyes. "Really? Do you know how awesome that would be! You could totally do that!" Ah, she is a keeper, this one.

"Yeah, The Italian Culinary Academy. It's like a ten week course in New York and then nine weeks in Italy. After that you can apply for an additional nine weeks in Italy as an intern, like working in real Italian kitchens and shit…I mean stuff." I glanced over at Esme who thankfully hadn't noticed my slip, she didn't like foul language. It really was a sweet little program they had over there, the purpose of the internship being to get a permanent position in a restaurant, as an assistant or a sous chef or something, and then work your way to the top. It'd be fucking sweet to have my own restaurant someday and this would be the best place to start.

"Well, that sounds incredibly interesting. I'd like to learn more about this school, and New York and Italy too." Bella grinned again, her mouth wrapping around her fork as she ate her salad. Rosalie was quiet again, defeated as she sank into her chair and pushed her food around her plate.

Bella ate everything before her, bringing the gnocchi to her lips and chewing slowly, even closing her eyes for a moment. This was always a good sign, equated with pleasure and longing. The table settled into a comfortable chatter and it felt excellent to have Bella create this food with me and then see her enjoy it. I thought about my plans for the future and now they involved Bella. I couldn't see a path I'd take that didn't have her beside me.

After dinner, we gathered our supplies for the bonfire. It was the middle of April so I wasn't counting on any ice or snow, but rain was always a possibility. I threw in some blankets in case we found that spot on the cliff, or in case Bella fell in the tide pools, both entirely plausible, especially if alcohol was involved. I wasn't going to drink but Bella might want to and I wasn't going to tell her what to do, but you bet your ass I was going to be there to take care of things if shit got ugly.

Emmett and Rose had already left to secure the spot on the beach and set up our camp. The wrestling team did this about once every couple months and they had their shit down. Each person was responsible for bringing one of the following three items…beer, food, firewood. Then they'd get stupid and intoxicated and create the largest, most dangerous fire imaginable, some of the guys bringing those wood palettes that shit arrives in stores on and standing them up around the fire until it was as tall as I was. It was highly dangerous and pretty fucking cool.

Alice was riding with us and sat quietly in the back seat of the Volvo as we drove the half hour drive to La Push Beach located on the Quileute Indian Reservation. When we got there Alice split, saying she was going to go find Emmett, but her previous secretive behavior eluded that she was going to find something else, something very specific.

I stashed the flashlights in my jacket pocket and took Bella's hand in mine, interlacing our fingers and walking towards the already raging tower of inferno down on the sand. We made our way around the dozens of people already chatting and drinking, some roasting marshmallows by the fire. A couple morons from the wrestling team were actually debating whether or not they could run through the blaze before their clothing caught on fire. Fucking idiots. I suddenly wished I had grabbed Carlisle's cell phone, the need to call 911 would probably arise at some point tonight.

We found Emmett and Rose over by the beer buckets, huge buckets of ice just overflowing with beer. They were both already buzzed by this time, Rosalie squinting and having a difficult time walking in the sand and Emmett fucking doing his damn impersonations. Alright, some of them were funny damnit, but I'd seen them all before. I really just wanted to find some place quiet where I could be with Bella, wrapped in a blanket under the stars.

"Do you want something to drink?" I asked, turning to speak quietly into her ear. Bella brought her lip between her teeth, shaking her head no and reaching up to kiss my cheek.

"Tide pools," she said, dragging me towards the ocean. It was true the tide was out really far, a few surfers past the crests and waiting for a night ride. I led now, pulling Bella to the rocky expanse of sand normally covered by the ocean and now exposed, trapping the creatures of the sea in these temporary homes. I gave Bella a flashlight and we explored the reefs, looking for crabs and fucking squealing when one would scuttle across the sand to hide in an inaccessible spot. We stuck our fingers in the sea anemone, watching them close up around the intruder, and we watched the tiny trapped fish swim around and around in the enclosed space. There wasn't anything romantic or sexual about the activity, it was just two people who liked each other acting like goofballs together. Bella was fun, she was silly and cracked stupid jokes and I just generally liked being around her. She made me feel like maybe I could be fun too.

Bella had started to shiver and I was eager to find that lookout point on the cliff and wrap her in a blanket before she got too numb. I wasn't exactly sure where it was but it couldn't have been far and I'd seen kids on the point before. We walked back to the car to grab the blankets and, using my flashlight, found a path cleared of foliage. This had to be the hiking path to the cliff.

"Um, so I think this is the path to a cliff with at really wicked view of the ocean. Are you up for an adventure?" I asked Bella. She might be too cold or tired to hike and in that case we could go sit by the fire.

"Oh Edward, I'm always up for an adventure," Bella replied, kissing my hand intertwined with hers.

We began walking up the hill, Bella falling a little behind, and since we were joined at the hands, I slowed my speed to mirror hers. We followed the meandering path, the packed dirt making it easy to tread and navigate.

Bella was quiet during our walk, thinking, but the silence wasn't uncomfortable. The sound of the party below was chaotic and messy, the screaming and laughing fading as we moved further from it, the sounds drowned out by the crashing of the waves against the rocks below us. We had hiked for twenty minutes maybe when we came to a fork in the path. To the right was a steeper path, climbing straight up, probably to a higher peak. To the left was a narrow path that hugged the rocky wall of the mountain. I chose the path on the left for us, not sure if even I could make it up the alternative.

"Edward, I don't think this is safe…for me," Bella said quietly. She was afraid of falling, but I was sure that the area opened up on the other side of this path and that we'd be secluded from people yet exposed to the elements of the night, the salty air and spray of the ocean, the stars and constellations in the sky, the backdrop for a most delicate memory. Yes, this is the pussy I had turned into for this girl, and I wanted everything to be perfect for her.

I had decided that I wasn't going to hold back anymore in my physical relationship with Bella. Like she had said, we should be natural and let things happen. The pressure of the bomb abated, I would be able to focus on Bella, on enjoying every aspect of our electric connection and giving her every bit of myself.

"Bella, would I ever lead you somewhere unsafe? Here, hold the flashlight." I handed her the light as I gently pushed her ahead of me, one arm around her waist, guiding her across the narrow path from behind. I knew we were close, I could hear the waves crashing, the air thick with moisture, the briny, mineral smell of the salt rich in the air. It was a tad cooler than I had anticipated but I had three blankets in my bundle and I was immediately shameful that I had mentally capped on Bella's multiple layers.

We eased around a bend in the mountain and then the pathway opened up to a wide plateau, the edge overlooking the ocean. The moon was full and glittering off the sea, basking us in its blue white glow and making Bella's skin a beautiful shade of cream. We could see the glow of the bonfire to the left, hear their banter. We weren't really that high up, just out of sight and hidden in the darkness.

"See? Isn't this worth it?" I whispered into her ear, kissing the area below the lobe. She leaned into me shivering slightly so I pulled my arm tighter around her soft body.

"It seems you do know what you're doing," Bella exhaled, her voice quiet and breathless. I pulled away from her, spreading the blanket onto the ground. She sat down, kicking off her shoes and crossing her legs beneath her as I placed another blanket around her shoulders. She opened her arms, welcoming me into them, and I quickly took my place beside her. Bella burrowed into my side, a place she seemed to like, and I placed my nose and lips to her hair, inhaling her lavender and allowing the soft, fragrant brown to tickle my face.

I pulled her back onto the blanket so that we could see the rarely visible stars. The marine layer had yet to make its way ashore and the lack of light pollution made them shine in bright reds and whites.

"Okay Mr. Astronomy, impress me with your knowledge of constellations," Bella said into my shoulder as I adjusted the blanket around us. Luckily, I watched a shitload of television before I met Bella, the Discovery Channel being one of my favorites, so I knew a thing or two about stars.

"Well, that's the big dipper," I said, teasing. Everyone knew the big dipper.

"Everyone knows the big dipper, Edward." I could almost feel her rolling her eyes at me and even though I couldn't actually see it, visualizing it was one of the cutest damn things I'd ever seen.

"Ah, yes, but not very many people know that it's actually part of a larger constellation called Ursa Major, The Great Bear," I countered. People aren't ever very impressed with the Big Dipper, the constellation getting a bad rap from overuse and from being easily identified, but Ursa Major is a pretty interesting area of the universe.

"The Great Bear, huh? Damnit, you're right, I didn't know that. Why do they call it The Great Bear?" Bella snuggled closer, her small frame delicately melding to mine. I pointed to the stars.

"Okay, so there's the handle of the Big Dipper, right? That's the bear's tail, and then the cup is the body. See? Then there's another star called Muscida, like in a straight line at the top of the cup, that's the head. And then there are strings of stars that make up the legs. See it? Ursa Major." I tried to point out all the important stars, but it was difficult without a picture. I decided I would print that shit out when I got home to give to her.

"Okay, but what's the story behind it? You know, because all the constellations have, like, some mythology that go with them," Bella asked. She was such a girl, wanting the gossip and shit.

"Well, you know Zeus right? The God of Gods?" Bella murmured in agreement so I continued. "So, Zeus wanted to get with this nymph, Kallisto. Hera, Zeus's wife, gets pissed and turns Kallisto into a bear. Later, Arcas, Kallisto's son, is going to shoot this bear whom he doesn't know is his mother in animal form and because Zeus is such a softy, he sweeps them both into the sky. Thus, Ursa Major. The Great Bear." The constellation actually had many interpretations, but I just told her the Greek one because it was the most well-known.

"Hmmm. So Kallisto didn't even do anything and she got turned into a bear? Seems kind of shitty to me," Bella retorted.

"Yeah, most mythology is pretty fucked up. I think the stories are meant to scare people or something. Don't cheat, you'll turn into a bear." I tightened my arm around her shoulders, bringing her closer. "Anyway, what is fucking awesome about this constellation is that it can be seen in the northern hemisphere all year long, because it's very close to Polaris, or the Northern Star. And you see that star in the handle of the dipper, the second one from the end?" Bella nodded. "That's actually two stars, Mizor and Alcor. It's a binary star system, actually the very first binary star system to be discovered. Binary stars look like one star from this far away, because they're so close, they actually appear as one."

"There's also a bunch of other shit in there, some spiral galaxies and a planetary nebula. All in all, a pretty fucking righteous set of stars. Hard to believe there's so much depth and intrigue concealed in something so prosaic as the Big Dipper, huh?"

"I think depth and intrigue is always concealed in something prosaic. It's what makes it so intriguing, that it's not inherently obvious or on display, but that you have to dig a little for it, get your hands dirty." Bella responded, turning her body so that she was laying on her side, her face searching mine. Her delicate features illuminated by the light were angelic and smooth, her lips a vibrant shade of red refracting the cool tones of the moon.

I bent down to kiss her protruding lips, the blood rushing to them and pulsing hot against my own, tangling my tongue with hers. My hands instinctively found their way around her waist, the material thick and cumbersome beneath my fingers. Fuck, how many damn shirts was she wearing? As though she had heard my thoughts, she pulled the layers over her head in one fell swoop, leaving on a pink and black bra. It was the first time I'd ever seen Bella wear a bra, the binding material straining against her chest, pushing and squishing her flesh into two neat little packages. I ran my hands up over her breasts to feel the material, applying pressure, gently squeezing her tits as I brought my thumbs over her hard nipples. She shuddered a bit and I pulled the blanket up around her shoulders, bringing my lips to her neck, and celebrating the exposed flesh.

Bella's hands instantly tangled into my hair, her fingers on the back of my neck. I licked the top of her breast, the indentation of her bra causing the muscle to jut out in lovely fullness, forcing my tongue beneath the material to lick her nipple. She gasped, her hand moving to touch the other, her fingers pulling at the hardened flesh. Holy fuck! I fucking lost it, the burden of fearful self control now dispersed, Bella absorbing some of the weight when she allowed me to confide in her. I pulled away from her, my hands swiftly unbuttoning those fucking jeans, and I slipped the pants over her ass, stopping to glide my hand over the skin, and pulling the pants from her legs. She brought her mouth to my neck, her hand sliding up under my undershirt and into the waistband of my pants. Her hand surrounded my swollen dick and I groaned at the feel of her fingers stroking the skin, clutching and grabbing, the monumental pressure coiled at the base of my groin and radiating for release.

As much as I wanted Bella's hands on my dick, I had something else planned. I pulled away from Bella, guiding her to lay on her back and making sure the blanket covered her exposed skin.

"Edward? What…are you okay?" Bella was concerned. I _was_ okay. The bomb was quiet.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Are you okay?" Now I was concerned that she was concerned.

Bella smiled, pulling me down on top of her, her legs wrapping around my waist. She used her foot to pull my hips into her and groaned out loud when she felt the hardness between her legs as she rocked her hips back and forth. This startled me momentarily, our intimate exchanges were usually so voiceless but here, without Charlie to worry about, Bella was able to vocally exhibit what she was feeling. And it was the most agonizingly beautiful sound in the world.

"Fuck, Edward. You have to take these jeans off. I'm going to get chaffed rubbing up on this shit." Bella was already unbuttoning my shirt, removing the fabric from my shoulders. Her hands quickly moved to my jeans as I kicked off my shoes, all the while her legs still hinged around my hips. I think she was afraid I was going to deny her request because she wouldn't remove her legs from my waist, her thighs pressed against my abdomen and the wet fabric of her cotton panties pushed into my belly. She sighed at my dick tenting the stretchy boxers, once again skating her hands between her legs and into my underwear.

I struggled to recall my original plan, Bella's inclination to lead allowing me to succumb to her whims. But there was something I'd been thinking about doing, something that I couldn't wait any longer to do, the fucking anticipation of it was killing me and I just had to know what it felt like, what it tasted like.

I wanted to lick Bella's pussy.

There's no romantic way to say this. I'd been trying on different phrases, ways that I could ask her, because I really didn't know what the fuck I was doing. What if she thought it was gross? What if she wouldn't want to kiss me anymore? And I couldn't come right out and say, _Fuck Bella, I want to eat you out so badly._ Right?

Wait, could I?

Shit, I guess I could find out.

I pressed into her again, another moan slipping from her parted lips, and brought my mouth to her ear. I licked her neck, pulling at her hip with my hand, the other supporting my weight so I wouldn't crush her. My lips at her ear, her heavy panting and her hands between her legs, on my dick and pushing it into her pussy, that shit gave me the courage to say the words.

"Fuck Bella, I want to eat you out so badly," I growled into her skin.

"Oh my God, fuck, Edward. Holy shit." She unhitched her legs and moved her hands to pull off her underwear. Shit, she wanted it. She wanted this maybe as much as I did. Bringing her hands back to my hair and neck she pulled me close to her. Her eyes were heavy and wanting, begging as she pulled my mouth to hers in a ferocious battle of tongues and lips, crashing my clothed dick into her exposed pussy, her wetness seeping into the material of my underwear. At one point I had moved just so I could feel her wet flesh on my bare dick through the slit in the boxers and I almost fucking unloaded right then and there. I pulled away, my hands reaching down to feel the warm slickness, slipping my fingers into her. Bella gasped, her hands still around my neck, pulling my face to hers until her nose touched my cheek.

"Do it, Edward. Lick it. Please." It wasn't a request either. She wanted this, maybe _more_ that I did, and I found extreme pleasure in the fact that I could grant her this request.

I scooted down to between her knees under the blanket. She accommodated by stretching her legs wider, making space so I could move freely. I inhaled her salty smell, using my fingers to open the crease and running them through the fluid, my thumb massaging every part of her. I wanted to see her completely exposed like this, but it was fucking cold and I didn't want to disrupt the cocoon of warmth we had tangled ourselves into. A bit nervous I was going to be a huge disappointment when she obviously wanted this so badly, I grazed my tongue across her clit a few times, the protrusion of flesh swollen and slick. Pulling her into my mouth and sucking every bit of Bella I could, I tasted her tangy and viscous essence, just fucking drinking her in and reveling at the softness of the skin on my tongue. Bella moaned loudly, long and guttural, a growl almost in her chest.

"Holy fucking shit," Bella breathed in a low voice. I couldn't see her but I could hear Bella breathing heavily, a quiet moan vibrating off her lips every so often as I continued to lick and suck, tonguing the pulsating tissue with fervor. Bella pushed herself into my face, her thighs tightening around my ears and her hands running forcefully through my hair. She was rocking her hips in accordance to the oscillation of my mouth, paced and rhythmic, the sounds pouring from her mouth igniting the mounting pressure, and I found that familiar need to have her bellowing in my being.

"Edward…Edward, I'm going to come," Bella breathed in a whisper now, her hips swiveling, fucking trying to get closer to my tongue any way that she could. I flicked more vehemently and then pulled her clit into a satiating suck. She stiffened and arched, a bouncing motion almost as she came, her throaty cries burned into my memory. Jesus Christ, that is the fucking most beautiful thing I'd ever experienced. Bella writhing in orgasmic euphoria, her hair splayed around her flushed face and just reveling in ecstasy could not be compared to any natural phenomenon in this universe. The sight alone was the epitome of appeal, pure captivation pouring out of every cellular constituent of her body.

"Edward. Holy…Shit." She was out of breath, sitting up and pulling me so she could see me. "That...fuck. Oh, my God." She laughed, unable to find the words. "I'm speechless. I can't believe…I didn't think it could get better." Bella brought her lips to mine in a frantic kiss, her tongue swirling, and I was hesitant thinking she wouldn't want to taste herself on me, but she just fucking kept kissing me until we both couldn't breathe and I had to disengage.

Bella wasted no time climbing on top of me, bringing her knees to rest against my hips, and I surged with equal amounts of panic and lust. I didn't know if this was going to be okay, if I could handle this, but I let the fear wash away instead of clinging to it, I let it all wash away, allowing only the natural urge and wanting to reside in my being now.

Bella pulled me from my revelation, pressing her naked pussy against my underwear. She reached down to free my dick, enveloping the hardness with soft hands. Pulling my boxers down to the top of my thighs, she pressed her wetness around my bare dick and fuck, the current beneath my skin just flowed, the heat, the warm slippery conductor fucking engulfing my awareness and sending flares of voracity through my entire body. I craved her wrapped around me fully, to push into her, fusing our physical conduit and, unlike last time, I was willing to give into the craving and gorge myself in Bella's libidinous avidity.

My breath left my body as Bella's hand folded around my cock. Her eyes were electric, crackling and dancing in the moonlight, the salty spray misting the blankets woven around us.

She smiled and bent down to bring her lips to mine, a slow, playful tug on my mouth.

I realized that I was trembling, my hands unable to move or feel, my whole being shaken at what was about to take place. Bella raised herself into a keen position and I felt the tip press into her, her eyes on mine the entire time. Fuck, this might hurt her. I hadn't even thought about that, the fucking bomb having been the antagonist most at the forefront. I couldn't be responsible for that pain.

"Wait," I said, pleading with Bella, my eyes intent and gazing.

"It's okay," Bella's voice was soothing and quiet as she peppered my face with small kisses. "It's okay." She said it again, a genuine grin upon her red lips.

I searched her eyes for any apprehension or doubt, any reason to stop what was most definitely going to happen but all I could find in those liquescent chocolate pools was acceptance and conviction, the reliance on herself to be sure that this was the most desirable decision. And I was calm, that acceptance wrapping me up and drawing me into her.

"Okay," I replied finally. She moved to continue but I rolled us over so Bella was on her back, her body spread out beneath me, and I brought myself to her brim. Bella held my eyes with hers, bringing her hands to my neck and running her hands into my hair, and it felt so good, her fingers twisting into my tresses, tickling my scalp and sending shivers down my back and shoulders.

Hesitating only a mere second more, I pushed into Bella slowly, her eyes wide and still holding mine. Her mouth opened, her teeth coming down to bite into her lip. She gasped at the initial penetration, the force of her surrounding me, the pressure of her body on my being reveled in the conjointment as I continued to push into her until my hips were flush with hers. She voiced a small groan, exhaling as she did so and, bringing her face to mine, kissed my cheeks and nose, peck after peck scattered across my face in between our labored breaths.

I clutched at her skin with my fingertips, not really moving but just basking in the glory of being connected with Bella like this, jointed together in carnal lucidity. My body was still trembling, and I felt that unraveling in my spine, that pressure deep in my being, and I only just realized I didn't have a condom on, the threat of ejaculation now a very real danger.

And then we heard it. Laughter and dumbshit conversation. And it was fucking close, like in ten seconds some fucking shitheads were going to be seeing my girl's naked ass. Bella heard it too and in seconds the connection was broken and I was frantically finding my clothes under the twisted and raveled blankets, trying not to fully disentangle for fear of hypothermia. Bella was struggling with her shirts, the arms knotted and inside out. She looked at me pleading for help and I threw her my button up shirt, my undershirt still covering my chest. I searched for the jeans and found a pile of denim scrunched into the blanket. Separating the pairs of pants, I tossed Bella hers and she scrambled into them, leaving them unbuttoned and pulling on her shoes as I pulled on mine. She smoothed her hair just as this group of stoners walked around the bend in the path. I knew they were high, I could smell it on them.

"And that's a good match though, Leo and Aquarius, because Leo is fire and needs the air of Aquarius for survival." Alice, my fucking sister, skirted around the corner, passing a joint to skeezy-ass Jasper who was trailed by three other fucking inconsequential potheads. I couldn't believe Alice was still smoking pot, she knew that shit was detrimental, and I mean really bad for us. What the fuck was her problem? I was readying myself to go over to her and verbally scold her decision to participate in destructive behavior.

They hadn't noticed us, the space we had chosen inconspicuous for a reason. Jasper licked his lips, and as he took the joint from my sister's hand, his other interlaced with hers, bringing her hand to his mouth and fucking kissing it, his lips lingering on her fingers. What the fuck? Why was this fucking bastard kissing my sister's hand? And the look on Alice's face. Shit! I'd seen that look, I'd just seen it earlier today actually, when Bella had helped me in the kitchen. What the hell was going on here?

"Edward, no." I exhaled as Bella whispered my name, trying to pull me back. She tried again, "Not now, not here." I glared at Bella, unable to say a word yet, the anger boiling in my gut and pounding in my head. I was going to rip this motherfucker a new asshole. He was probably fucking my sister and giving her and my girlfriend drugs and I was going to shred him on it. Fuck, I was just now able to run again, my bruised ribs finally healed, and now I was potentially going to fuck shit up again.

I got to my feet, Bella grabbing my pant leg. "No, Edward, please. Just let it go. Talk to her tomorrow." I shrugged Bella off, my body unable to cope with this too. I was going to walk right up him and clock him right in the fucking head. Seconds after I stood up, Alice noticed me, losing my element of surprise. Her expression changed and she knew that I knew. And she also knew what I was about to do.

"Edward, don't you fucking dare, Edward!" Alice's words were venomous, spitting and shouting at me as I lunged toward Jasper.

Jasper readied himself for the blow by putting his hands up to block the attack right as I came close enough to make contact and his arm collided with my face, crushing my nose and sending blood squirting everywhere, running down the back of my throat and splattering in my hair. I think the fucker broke my nose.

"Fuck!" I bent over, clutching my face, Bella running over to me and grabbing my shoulders, trying to bring my head up.

"Edward! Are you okay? Look at me!" I pushed her away, retaliation my only goal.

"Dude, stop. I'm not going to fight you." Jasper had his hands up again, a surrender of some sort, but I didn't fucking care.

"What do you mean, you're not going to fight me? I don't think you have a choice, you fucking dickhead," I spat back, advancing as he backed away, his hands now waist level, still fucking surrendering. "How could you fucking do that to her, take advantage like that?"

"I didn't take advantage of shit. I didn't do anything that she didn't want to do first," Jasper replied, and the thought of him doing anything with my sister seethed in my head and the outrage boiled over.

I lunged for him again, connecting with his torso and slamming him into the rock wall behind him. Jasper gasped, the wind knocked out of him, I'm sure. He coughed and I could hear Alice and Bella screaming at me to stop, pleading. I think one of them may have been crying even, but I was too far gone. I wanted to feel my fist split his face. I wanted to see him bleed.

"Do you even know anything about her family, what drugs can do to her? I didn't think so. Just looking for a good lay? Sick, you're fucking sick." I was screaming now, our altercation so loud even people down at the bonfire could hear us. They stopped to see what was happening on the cliff.

I pulled back my fist and punched him square in the eye, the connection sickened with a deafening crack as my fist hit his face.

"Fuck, Edward! I'm not going to hit you back, so fucking knock this shit off! Fuck!" Jasper grabbed his eye, his other arm still in the air.

"You think it's fun to fuck with little girls? She's only sixteen you pedophile fuck. You're so going to prison for this!" I shoved him hard in the chest. "Just a fuck to you, my little sister?" I shouted this last part, frustration making it hard to comprehend what was happening. I pulled back my fist to hit him again, shifting all my bodyweight to my back foot so that my strike would be at optimal force and apply the most damage to that fucker's face.

"Fucking stop, Edward!" Jasper shouted, causing me to pause. "I love-" And when he said that word, that fucking word, the bomb exploded. I had never felt the need to eradicate anything the way I wanted to take Jasper down in that moment. This asshole was going to throw around that word like it just excused his behavior, but to me a further reminder that I was damaged, ruined, love something that I hadn't ever seen in my future. Putting all my strength and bodyweight behind my fist, I punched him right in the fucking face, my fist colliding with the flesh of his cheekbone, the skin splitting underneath the throbbing of my knuckles. Jasper's head snapped back, smacking against the rock wall behind us, the momentum of the punch sending me stumbling forward.

Jasper, stunned and bleeding, slid down the rock wall, slouching onto the ground as Alice ran over to him, pushing me out of the way.

"Jasper?" Alice crouched down beside him, smoothing her hands over his face and pushing his hair behind his ears. "Jasper, fuck, are you okay?"

Jasper rolled his head, looking at Alice only now, a slight slur in his speech. "I love you, Alice. I've wanted to tell you, I just felt like you were embarrassed by me, like maybe that was the real reason behind all the secrecy and shit."

"I'm not embarrassed, I just didn't want you to get your ass kicked." Alice put her arms around Jasper's neck and placed a small kiss on his lips. "I love you, as well," she whispered, pulling him into a more passionate kiss this time, making my stomach churn in disgust.

What the fuck had just happened? Shocked beyond belief, my eyes glazed over and I found myself unable to see the details of their faces anymore as they enjoyed their newly declared affection. I was freaking out, the raw animalistic rage that had just consumed my being was horrifying. But that fucking word, the goddamn trigger, forcing me to realize that I would never be normal, never be whole. Damaged fucking goods, Jasper had exposed and stripped me of any hope of normalcy I had been collecting over the past two months. The fact that this fucking asshole could attain this revered and sanctified emotion, this love, brought forth every ounce of hatred and loathing that had been festering since I had found my parents dead two years ago.

I tried to move my legs, to get the fuck out of there, but my knees weren't working properly and I stumbled backwards, trying to get a bearing on my body. Bella grabbed my hand, pulling me away from the intimacy of their embrace, and I followed her back to where our blankets were still spread out. She bent down, folding up the blankets, looking up at me and asking if I was okay over and over again. I stared right through her, still unsure of the implications of this clusterfuck. Bella collected our shit and grabbed my hand, leading me as we hiked down the mountain.

Jasper loved my sister. It all made sense now. The sneaking around, the walks, tutoring, it all fucking made sense. My own sister didn't want to tell me she'd found _love_ because she thought I was too fucked up to handle it. My own damn sister didn't trust me to be normal. That shit stung, especially now.

I increased in speed, walking ahead of Bella now, my mind reeling from what had happened. That word, what the fuck was with that word. I shouldn't give a shit really. Alice is allowed to be normal, she doesn't have the same fears as I do. She never had, really. And now I had a piece of normalcy in my very abnormal existence, someone that didn't care that I wasn't normal because it was us, it was just us, and it was beautiful. Bella never worried about me accidentally destroying her public image or picking a fight with some guy. I didn't want to see that destroyed, especially by something I couldn't fucking control. I finally had someone, someone I could love, theoretically.

"Edward! Can we slow down? You're walking too fast." I was practically dragging her now, eager to get to the car, and she was out of breath. Slowing down, I leaned over to Bella walking beside me and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, a small amount of my blood smearing into her skin, the vibrant red radiant on her porcelain glow.

Staring at the blood, fucking reveling in how beautiful it looked against her skin, I touched her face, rubbing her cheek with my thumb. I leaned in to smell her hair, reminding me of how it tousled around her face in the throes of ecstasy. And then it was so obvious, I laughed out loud, Bella gazing at me, her lovely chocolate eyes narrowed.

Did I love Bella? The cadence of the statement rang in my ears. I loved every part of her being, even those she chose to keep secret. I loved being with her, our conversations easy and comfortable. I loved that she was so bold, taking her relationship with Charlie into her own hands, intent on following through with her mission and proving to herself that she could do it. I loved touching her, our physical relationship electric and connecting in ways I didn't think was possible.

But it _was_ possible, a possibility realized tonight, the memory of our almost sex a connection not even I could destroy. For one brief moment, Bella and I had been one solitary unit, aligned and conjoined, we had been brave enough to enter into the most physically vulnerable and intimate position. And now, even after that bullshit, after I'd lost complete control and gave in to my instinct for maniacal behavior, she was still here, still connected to me, her hand in mine as we approached the car.

And I fucking knew. When I pulled her into my side, her body forming perfectly against me, I just knew.

I fucking loved Bella Swan.

I stopped abruptly by the car, my hand still in Bella's and she jerked, not expecting my sudden halt. She looked at me, surprised and apprehensive, the worry creased in her eyes, probably thinking I was still freaking out. Meeting her gaze intensely, I just stood there, shocked now by the suddenness of my own conclusion, digesting the intoxicating elation and fucking basking in the afterglow of conviction.

Bella moved to face me, bringing her hands to cradle my face and then prodding my nose with her soft touch. She lightly slid her thumb across my cheek, trying to wipe away the now-dried blood. I pulled her by my shirt into a deep, forceful kiss, my lips violently attacking hers, my hands pulling at the material and pushing her up against the Volvo, the cold metal against her bare skin, and I twisted my hands into the back of the shirt. I was trying to convey so many meanings in this one kiss, the urge to express them all simultaneously and with equal importance fueling my behavior, pushing into her mouth, her head slight thudding against the window as my tongue commanded hers to match my enthusiasm. I poured my every ounce of gratitude into that connection, gratitude for allowing me to feel normal, for giving me an outlet to express my concerns without feeling judged or criminalized, for trusting in me to not become like my father, and proving to me that I might be different, that I deserved different. I was desperate to convey this to her, and I was almost worried I would crush her, my body pinning her against the car. But Bella met my enthusiasm, her mouth moving with mine in quick and fiery undulations of unearthly divination, the urgency and fervor of our mouths matched, equally intent on validation. And I just knew she fucking got it.

Bella smiled as she pulled away from my lips and I released her, my fears abated by my realized adoration. I was a fucking wreck, exhausted and drained, my body already sore from the altercation. I released my grip on the shirt, wrapping my arms around her shoulders instead, and pulled her closer to me, fusing her existence to mine as we stood by the car. Despite the bizarre turn of events, I felt light and jovial as all fuck because I loved Bella, the admittance still fresh in my awareness, and she was comfortably melding to my being. With Bella folded into my side, so close we could be one, I could just be hers. Orbiting with Bella in that stellar dance of avoided destruction, I could just be hers, indefinitely.

...

**A/N**

Gahhhh! I love a good fight...and gnocchi, I fucking LOVE gnocchi... and Stoli!! Who loves Stoli?? So much love, bb's!!

Who Loves Joni??? Edward does!!!

Songs Referenced

_All I Want_

_I Think I Understand_

_I'm a Lucky Girl_

_Flight Tonight_

And.....DISCUSS! (that's the teacher in me)


	13. It All Comes Down to You

**Darlings**,

So real life has been kicking my ass lately. I apologize for the delay in posting, my dears!

Lovely readers, thank you for kind words and personal stories in your reviews and messages.

**Amers**, once again, you are a brilliant confidante of psychobabble bullshit!

Fabulous beta **n7of9**, you deserve so many thanks, and hugs, and chocolate, and kitties, and Robward's. I wish I could put all these things in a box and send them to you...

SHIT! I always forget this!! Disclaimer: It's not mine!!

...

**CH. 13**_**"It All Comes Down to You"**_

**BPOV**

What the fuck had just happened?

I was thoroughly enjoying probably the most magical, fiendishly enchanting evening I'd ever experienced, full and brimming with gratification as Edward's body poised above me, his eyes boring into my very soul, connecting, reverberating in my being and dousing my every insecurity and doubt with unyielding acceptance. I felt such empowerment in what I was experiencing with Edward and the physical reception he granted me. I could see his discerning gaze searching my features looking for anything that would cause him to hesitate and I was eager to show him only my firmest resolve, that what we were about to enter into would be an innate and comfortable partnership.

Satisfied in the reassurance he saw in my face, he pushed into me, and I inhaled deeply as my body swelled to accommodate his breadth. Consumed by the sweet satisfaction of the stinging stretch, Edward completely pervaded my being, our hips fused, flesh upon flesh causing a visceral moan to erupt from my lips. I couldn't find the words or the oxygen necessary to form them, but I needed to express to Edward my gratitude for trusting me this way, for making himself so vulnerable considering our fucked up circumstances, so I swiftly began peppering his entire face with soft, wet kisses, my desperation to breathe obvious in my heavy breaths.

And then there was laughter and panic and Edward was gone, tossing shit everywhere. Somehow we were able to cover ourselves and I knew who it was before I even saw them slink round the bend.

Honestly, I didn't know how Edward was going to take the fact that his sister was dating Jasper. The only experience I'd ever had with Edward's temper was when he stormed out of Biology. He only ever showed me a gentle, kind soul and I was wondering at how I might react to angry, violent Edward. Well, I was about to find out.

At first, Edward just looked annoyed. Alice was leading Jasper and some friends, a joint between her ringed fingers, turquoise and pewter jewels decorating her hands, her Doc Marten boots practically skipping around the bend. She had borrowed one of my t-shirts, the rose entwined pistols hugging her frame much more graciously than they did mine, paired with threadbare jeans, holes gaping at her knees and bright red leggings peeking through the tatters. Her shoulders were covered with a large brown velvet blazer, Jasper's bare arms in only a thin, blue v-neck evidence to the true owner of the coat.

Edward was about to approach them and I could practically hear the words he was going to say, but then his entire body language changed. Tense and strained, the muscles in his back and neck visibly flexing, his demeanor darkened. Jasper took the joint from Alice and brought her fingers to his lips, kissing each of them in a silent thank you.

Edward caught on quick, not waiting for an explanation, and I saw the resolve already vibrating in his predatory stance. I tried to stop him by grabbing at his clothing, trying to get him to listen or to calm down, but I don't even think he heard me. He charged at Jasper and I heard Alice scream as Jasper's arm flailed out in unfortunate timing and collided with Edward's face, blood splattering the pair of them.

I ran to Edward to see where the blood was coming from, the coppery odor sending my stomach twisting with nausea, but he pushed me away, his eyes dark with justification. He advanced upon Jasper, backing him against the cliff, all the while accusations spewing from his lips. Jasper didn't want to fight, that was obvious in his defensive manner. It was also obvious that Edward didn't really care.

At first I hoped they would just yell at each other, exchange insults and then come to an understanding, but I soon realized this hope was futile. Edward slammed into Jasper hard, crushing him against the rock wall, a fury of fists and insults until finally Jasper yelled, "Fucking stop, Edward!"

And he did, long enough for Jasper to utter the next two words, "I love-", but Edward didn't let him finish his declaration. In a flail of fury, Edward's eyes blazing in the moonlight and with a majestic power in the arc of his swing, he delivered the concluding blow which sent Jasper into the rock again, his head bouncing off the wall as he slid to the ground. Alice rushed to him as he sprawled on the ground, their confessions of emotion outweighing the pain of the moment. _"Love's not puffed up."_

I could see Edward's chest heaving and his body trembling as he tried to gain control. He took a step to walk but his knees buckled and he stumbled backwards. I ran to him and grasped his hand, feeling his body release with the connection. I pulled him to the blankets and quickly gathered our stuff, Edward still silent and vacant. Shit! He looked fucking catatonic, staring past me as I asked him over and over if he was okay. He hadn't answered me once, hadn't said anything, his silence festering and nipping at my awareness. Why hadn't he said anything yet? Anxiety was beginning to swell in my chest, tightening in my throat, making it hard to breathe. _Fuck! Say something, anything!_ I silently begged for Edward to respond, to show some sort of recognition or coherent thought while the words of those fucking journal articles I read were swimming around in my head. _No!_ I internally shouted at myself for even thinking about it and eased my hand into his, noticing again the current that flowed between us calmed his trembling, and I led him away through the bend and down the mountain.

Edward was quiet and meditative as we walked, the moonlight streaking off his sharp features in blurs as he started gaining speed down the hill. He would every so often shake his head or exhale sharply as his long legs carried him swiftly. I was struggling to keep up with him, my breath heavy in my chest and tripping slightly as he dragged me down the hill.

"Edward! Can we slow down? You're walking too fast," I pleaded, trying to catch my breath. He pulled me into his side, not stopping but slowing his gait, and placed his lips upon my forehead and it was like he was back again. He touched my face and brought his nose to my hair, reintroducing me to his senses. And then he laughed, a gasping chuckle, quick and sharp.

I gave him a questioning glance but he continued to walk to the car and I readied myself to move to the passenger side, when Edward abruptly stopped. My hand still in his, I jerked back, the sudden stop throwing me off guard and causing questioning eyes to focus on Edward again. He was changing his demeanor so rapidly and alternating between moods that I didn't know the cause for his sudden stop.

He was staring at me, intensity pouring from his gaze and a small, delicate look of contentment playing up on his features. His lips pulled into a small smile and I found myself drowning in his emerald green pools dancing in the moonlight and shining with excitement and revelation. I didn't know what had caused this newfound contentment but I was glad this was the emotion present in his being at this moment. I appraised his face, his eyes no longer vacant but brimming and aware, thick slices of his hair falling to block my view. His nose was swollen, blood splattered across his cheeks, the red splay garnishing his white undershirt.

I brought a hand up to touch his face and feel his nose to gauge his reaction. He just continued to stare, his eyes fighting for my attention when I would focus elsewhere. I wanted to wash his face, the dried blood a reminder of his oscillating behavior, so I used my thumb to try to wipe it away, not really helping in any respect.

Suddenly, Edward grabbed the front of my shirt, thrusting his mouth to encompass mine, his lips and tongue pulsating around my mouth. He pushed into me, moving me back until I felt the bite of cold metal against my lower back which sent a chill thriving through my body. The material of my shirt was twisted in his hands and strained against my body and I seriously thought he might rip the fucking thing, either accidentally or on purpose, I couldn't tell, but the intensity of his kiss was threatening to unravel any shred of decorum I possessed. _"He loved me so naughty, made me weak in the knees."_

My mouth was working furiously to keep up with his, the swirling of our tongues a torrent of emotion as he pushed more forcefully into me, my head thudding against the window. I wanted to put every ounce of my entire being into Edward, to console him, to care for him, to be everything he needed me to be. And I knew he felt the same. I felt it in the magnitude of our matched fervor, that desire to convey acceptance in the normalcy we had found in each other despite the shit we both had dwelled in for so long.

I pulled away from the kiss, freezing yet ablaze as Edward's arms enveloped me, sucking me in to press against his body. I found myself in the very calm of a storm, a quiet sanctuary intended just for me, a space molded for my body.

Edward released me only when his own teeth began to chatter and he feared I was as cold as he was. He opened my door and helped me in. I was aware that he still hadn't spoken a word about this. He was keeping it all in, secluding himself within his own head, and I had to pull him out. Edward needed to deal with this so that his relationship with his only tie to his parents wouldn't be snipped. Edward adored his sister, something I found incredibly endearing having no siblings of my own, but he now needed to release her, let her relish in her own happiness and individual choices.

I wanted to ask him so many questions as we drove to my house, my curiosity just burning a hole in my restraint. Why did he just kiss me like that? What was he thinking about when we were walking down the trail to the car? Why had he laughed? Did he like the almost sex? _Oh my God, was he laughing at the almost sex?_I was going to give myself an anxiety attack at the rate the questions were popping into my head. Why did he feel the need to punch Jasper when he mentioned love? This was particularly perplexing because I didn't know why he would care so much about Jasper loving his sister.

I held my questions though, I could tell this wasn't the time for them. Edward held my hand as he drove, never losing contact with my skin. He drove quickly, the highway a blur as we sped toward Forks. I almost dozed off a couple of times but Edward's thumb would rub into my skin or he'd rearrange his fingers in mine and the connection would restart my awareness, pulling me from the frothy lull of unconsciousness.

When we pulled into my driveway he quickly got out and opened my door for me. He clasped my hand to help me from the vehicle, again our skin in constant contact, and walked us to the front door. I unlocked it and crept inside, pulling Edward along with me. The living room was absent of the blue-green glow of the television set and I motioned for Edward to wait in the foyer. I walked into the living room to find it empty, an eerie sensation creeping up my neck as I walked to the floor lamp and clicked on the light. The couch was empty, the afghan folded over the back of it. Only faintly aware of the pounding in my chest, I walked into the kitchen and flicked the switch to illuminate that room too. Nothing out of place, the table where normal families shared meals was covered in stacks of paperwork and fishing line. I searched the table for a note or something, anything indicating where Charlie would be so late in the night.

"Bella? What's going on?" Edward followed me into the kitchen and moved to the sink, running the tap and splashing his face with water. "Where's Charlie?" he asked.

"Fuck if I know?" I spat. I was pissed. No fucking note or anything? What the hell? "Maybe he's in his room?" I stomped up the stairs, irritated and anxious to find out where the hell he was. I rounded the corner to find his room dark. He was definitely gone, like, not in the house.

Edward made his way up the stairs and I moved to stand at the landing. "He's fucking gone! What the fuck? Where the hell did he go?" I was yelling, my hands on my hips and panicking at the implications, my mother's frantic voice in my head, _"He's gone."_

I knew I was overreacting and I was probably acting a little like a four year old, but this was highly uncharacteristic of the man who recently had heart surgery and was barely cleared to drive a car alone, never mind stay out until midnight. Torn between fear and irritation, I stormed into my room to change into my sweats, my stupid tight pants cutting off my circulation and proving once again that dressing up once in a while was going to kill me. I freed my legs from the confines of the pants and sighed out loud with relief. I wadded up the denim into a ball and tossed it in the corner.

"Nice, um, shirt." I heard a chuckle from my doorway, Edward smirking just inside the moonlit room. He was leaning against the doorframe holding out a slip of paper in his fingers. "It was taped to your door."

I flicked on the light, a bit self conscious of the fact that I was standing in front of Edward wearing only my underwear and his button-up shirt, and pulled the paper from his fingers.

_Bella,_

_At the hospital for some tests._

_I might have to stay the night._

_Call Carlisle if you need anything._

_Why don't you have your cell phone?_

_Charlie_

I frowned at the note, a slow pressure festering in my chest. Tests? He had said everything was fine earlier today and I'm sure he hadn't mentioned more tests. Why hadn't he mentioned it?

"What does it say?" Edward asked, moving closer and smoothing my hair behind my ear. His fingers trailed the skin of my neck and over my shoulder, lightly wrapping them in the fabric of my collar.

"He's at the hospital, for more tests," I said, handing him the note. Edward pulled the note from my hand and glanced over it, his lips pursed in contemplation.

Seeing the scowl which had taken over my features, he leaned in to press his lips to my nose. "Let's call Carlisle."

I was glad he suggested it because I didn't want to admit out loud that I was slightly freaking out about this. I nodded instead, moving to find the cell phone Renee had given me before I came to Forks. The battery had been dead for about a month but I hadn't really seen any reason to recharge it until now. I plugged the phone into the wall and turned it on.

The small screen lit up. Two missed calls, one from an unknown number, the other Renee. From a week ago. I laughed out loud at the absurdity. I didn't know what was worse, the fact that I hadn't spoken to her in weeks and she just now tried to call, or the fact that it didn't seem to bother her when she did call and couldn't get through.

"Huh! My mom called," I mused out loud.

"Your mom? Is she in Phoenix?" Edward asked before he sat on my bed, and I had to think about that for a moment. Was she still in Phoenix? I didn't even know. She was supposed to be moving to Florida at some point. Had she already left? Would my mother leave for fucking Florida and not tell me? I had to shelve this shit for later though, my initial concern more prevalent in urgency.

"I don't know," I shrugged. I handed him my charging phone, the device tethered to the wall, and he swiftly dialed Carlisle's number as I anxiously waited.

"Carlisle?" Edward spoke into the phone. I sat down on the bed across from him, folding my legs beneath me. "Yeah, we're here now."

"Oh. Okay." Edward kept my gaze, a small smile on his lips. "Yeah, no problem," he answered Carlisle's question. "She's okay." More agonizing quiet. "Of course, Carlisle, Jesus." Edward shrugged and rolled his eyes and I had to smile at the irony of the normal behavior despite the abnormal circumstances we constantly seemed to find ourselves in.

"I will. Thanks." Edward disconnected, setting the phone on the nightstand. "So, Charlie is having some sleep tests done, I guess something to do with the sleep apnea. He has to stay overnight so they can monitor him."

I nodded, still perplexed as to why he hadn't mentioned it earlier. I mean, it's not like he didn't have the opportunity and with his omission of information, I felt that familiar pang of his indifference.

"Umm, Carlisle also asked if you would be okay here…alone." Edward glanced at me, his lashed eyes apprehensive and gauging and I hoped it was some kind of humor he was attempting.

"I don't plan on being here alone," I said, rolling my eyes. A slow smile spread across Edward's face as he reveled in his mocking.

"Good answer." Edward leaned across the small space and tugged at my lips, slow and tortuous, small sensual kisses that burned into my skin.

He brought his hands to my hair, smoothing the tangled mess especially awry because of the salty sea exposure. He searched all of my features, something different shining in his gleam, something new and purposeful, beckoning him to adjust his gaze. If I was going to get any answers tonight it was going to be out of that gaze, so I cautiously formulated my inquiries.

"How does your nose feel?" I asked him, genuinely concerned. His nose was slightly swollen, but definitely not as bad as last time.

"It's fine. Just sore, it's not broken or anything," he responded, his fingers connecting the freckles on my thigh and making logical or coherent thought highly impossible. I wondered if he was making it difficult to focus on purpose, as if he knew what conversation was about to take place and was trying to divert my attention elsewhere.

Well, it worked. We sat silent in this position, Edward tracing the three freckles over and over again, a triangle of distraction prominent in his contemplation. My questions still pounded in my head and I was getting ready to suck it up and just ask, when Edward beat me to it.

"Did you know?" Edward continued his tracing, gazing at the imaginary patterns on my leg. Fuck! I knew what he was asking about and the deceiver in me wanted to use the fact that he hadn't specified to my advantage, another long term side effect of self preservation.

I wanted to say no but I had obliged myself to complete honesty and I would deal with the shit that came with that pact. So I took a deep breath and nodded a quick 'yes'. Edward's finger faltered slightly as he accepted this information.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he questioned further, assuming the role I had planned for myself.

"Alice was my friend first," I stated simply, recalling the promise I had made in the school day-smoking restroom. "I promised."

Edward gazed at me intently, either because he didn't believe me or because he was unaware of the depth of my relationship with Alice. I had only known her an extra week, but I felt the solidification of our camaraderie in that first day.

"I can understand that," he said finally, his eyes focused on my freckles again. "I just don't understand why _she_ couldn't tell me. I mean, I'm her family. It's unlike Alice to have secrets. Why now? Why this?"

I knew Alice had her reasons for keeping the relationship from Edward. We had discussed it on our days spent in the restroom, yet I felt it was something Edward needed to hear from her, something she needed to explain to him, because it coming from my lips might alter the meaning.

I also knew that Alice's reasons were similar to my own reasons for withholding from Edward and after his reaction tonight, I'd be a liar if I said I wasn't scared to all hell of what he would do when he found out my secret. I gave him my own rationalizations instead and although they mirrored Alice's, my own frame of mind was prevalent in my explanation.

"Sometimes people need to figure shit out on their own first and then when they're good and ready they can share the information with whomever they choose." I judged his reaction to my justified rambling. Edward listened intently, speculation in his facial features. "Maybe Alice didn't want to tell you until she was sure it was something worth discussing," I mused.

Edward remained quiet and pensive, geometric quandaries still in the movements of his fingers. I added this next statement quickly, knowing he wouldn't be able to let this one slip by without questioning it, "And I know when people are prone to certain reactions, it might make others nervous to tell them something they don't want to hear."

At this, Edward withdrew his hand from my skin. His eyes focused on mine and I could tell he had digested the statement.

"What do you mean, prone to certain reactions?" Edward asked quietly. I realized he thought I was talking about the schizophrenia and quickly tried to clarify.

"I just mean how overprotective you are, how you assumed that Jasper was just with her for sex, that he was the one pushing the drugs on her, how you think she can't take care of herself. She's sixteen, Edward, you don't have to make her lunch anymore." I took his hand in mine. "I know you think it's your job to take care of her, and that is beautiful, honestly, it is very commendable. But she can do this, Edward, have a little confidence in her decisions. Show her that she has your love no matter what she decides to do. That's really all she needs anyways."

"I know, Bella. I know everything you're saying. It's just hard, you know, to step out of this role. I guess I've just always been trying to give her the father she never had." Edward picked at my fingers now, tracing the nail bed of each digit as he spoke.

"But you're not her father. And why would you want to be? Parents fuck up all the time, Edward. Look at my parents, they've both completely failed at parenthood. Either that, or I must be exceptionally forgettable, out of sight out of mind, right?" I snorted, looking at my hands intertwined with Edwards, thinking of Renee's missed call, her one fucking attempt to remember that I existed.

I mean, yes, Charlie was trying now, now that he was forced with the knowledge of my existence. It didn't make up for the seven years that I was left wounded and bleeding, seven years of feeling like I wasn't worthy of attention or acknowledgment, seven years of thinking that I didn't deserve to be loved.

"Your father loves you Bella," Edward said quietly. "And he's around, even if not in the way you want him to be. It's possible he always was and you just never knew it."

My head snapped up, meeting Edward's gaze in disconcertment. "Why…why would you say that? Who… I mean, what do you mean?" I stuttered.

"Well, Carlisle knew where to find you, so Charlie must have told someone about you, right?" Edward shrugged slightly. "Or, maybe you were on his emergency contact list or something. Either way, he didn't forget about you."

I let this logic fill my brain and push against all my preconceived notions about my father. I tried to dispute it, letting it crash against any and every excuse I had to not accept it, but the truth was, I just didn't know. I had no proof either way and now, where conviction once stood fixed, I was left with doubt.

"Did you know my father can cook?" I muttered to Edward, the doubt beginning to invade, allowing all the memories of Charlie to slowly seep into me.

"Yeah, actually I did kind of know that. He used to barbeque for us all the time," Edward said quietly.

"He can make marinara too. And he used to make me pastina when I was sick," I said, slow tears beginning to brim in my eyelids as I forced the memory into consciousness.

"He can fix cars too. I'm pretty sure he restored my truck. He always smelled like tobacco and grease, and I used to love the way he smelled." I choked out the words, causing the tears to stream and my chest to swell, and I found myself grieving the loss of that scent, that intangible tie to my father that I had searched and searched for.

"And he plays the guitar," I added, the tears overflowing as the memories cascaded through my mind. "He used to sit in that rocking chair and play The Beatles or The Eagles, but mostly Joni Mitchell. The Circle Game was his favorite and I knew every fucking word to that song by the time I was five. He'd make me sing, joining me with the chorus and reminding me when I'd forget the lyrics." And the memory caused my hair to stand on end, goosebumps prickling up all over my arms and legs and flooding my heart with the lyrics of my soul, _"It's the warmest chord I ever heard."_

Edward pulled me to him, wrapping me in strong arms, his hands soothing on my back and neck, his lips on my cheeks and eyes and nose. He pulled us down to lie on the bed, his body still encompassing mine. He massaged his hand into my back, running the length of my spine to the nape of my neck, soothing my tired mind and soul until the tears dried and my wet and salty face ached from the release and, entwined on my bed, we both allowed the exhaustion of the night to bathe us in tranquil rest.

…

_I could see him in the distance, winding up the path with a curiously quick gait, his coppery hair curling on his neck. The salty chill in the air caused my entire body to prickle with desire as I struggled to follow, tripping over rocks, the skin curling on my palms, the sting of the abrasions acutely satisfying. My heart was pounding in my chest, my breath pulsing in rasps as Edward glanced over his shoulder, tossing me a smile from his ruby lips, his emeralds sparkling in the summer sun, reflecting the light like jade embers scorching into my soul and blinding any apprehension._

_He disappeared over the crest of the mountain as the path suddenly increased in steepness and I had to use my hands to climb the almost vertical wall of debris. Dust in my hair and mouth, my fingers and toes aching with persistence, I finally breached the summit of the mountain to find Edward at the edge of the cliff overlooking the violent angry spray of current amid rock, the battle for control apparent in the struggle._

_Edward stood with outstretched arms and lifted his face to the sun, allowing the rays to bathe his flesh in radiant adoration. He was waiting for me. With firm resolve I attached myself to him, clinging to his neck with my arms and wrapping my legs around his waist as his arms folded to encompass me, pulling me into him and melding our bodies as one. As I closed my eyes and buried my faced into his chest, he stepped off the cliff and we found ourselves fused and falling, an orbit of complimentary destruction as the universe pulled and pushed at our connection, my arms fatigued and strained and denying the compulsion to be ripped from his entity. His arms tightened around me as the inviting ocean approached and one phrase slipped from my lips just before the icy spray swallowed us up. "Edward, I love you."_

I jolted awake, reaching out to catch myself, the falling sensation evident in my still present vertigo. My face was covered in a fine sheen of moisture, my chest heaving with the frantic need for oxygen.

"Bella?" Edward was awake, one of my books in his hand. I was lying on his chest, his shirt still damp from my late night lament. I sat up, my head spinning, looking around the lamp-lit room, the dull light casting an orange glow and basking everything in sepia toned luminance. I inspected Edward lying on my bed, his face creased and perplexed, his hands reaching up to wipe my brow. "Are you okay?"

I couldn't stop staring at his face, his perfectly angular features, reminiscent of an artist's rendition of the human form, and I recognized what my subconscious was trying to tell me. I loved Edward, the dream still thick in my perception, I knew it immediately. Flashes of my dream were fading from recollection now, Edward holding me to him, craving my body to be fused with his, and I had to bring myself closer to him. I ran my hands up his stomach and over his chest, crawling onto his lap, an exhale sighing from his lips as they parted, and his eyes closing as I reached my fingers into his hair to massage his scalp.

Pulling his lips to mine I kissed him, slow and deliberate, his nectarous skin still smelling of the salty vapor, every push of my tongue flush with desire and force as he slid his arms around the middle of my back. "Bella? What's wrong?" he asked, pulling from the kiss and still questioning my strange behavior.

"Nothing's wrong. Everything is right, very, very right," I smiled, the pain of the craving from my dream still bleeding in my brain, and I couldn't let that need dissipate. I pushed my mouth on his once again, the pressure of his hands sprawled across my behind, the stretchy fabric of my underwear pulling under his gripping fingers. He pulled from the embrace, his lips moving to my jaw and neck, little licks and nips jolting that pulsing greed deep in my belly and blending between my legs. I ground myself down onto his lap, feeling his hardness beneath me, my body reacting with copious moisture.

Edward moved his hands to unbutton my shirt, his lips on my neck, creeping his way to my chest as he opened the shirt, his hands gripping my breasts still confined by this silly bra, pulling down the material to lick the hardened pink flesh. I rocked my hips, uncontrollably desiring that friction and groaned as the cool air hit my skin, chilling the area previously occupied by Edward's tongue.

He brought his hands to fold around my hips, his green portals boring into my eyes as I continued to rock my hips, grinding down onto him and bringing my mouth to taste the skin of his jaw, low throaty groans coming from his lips. I reached down to this waistband, unbuttoning his jeans and trying to pull the fabric from his hips.

"A little help here?" I asked breathlessly as he laughed, lifting his hips so I could shimmy down the denim to just below his hips, too impatient to remove his pants completely.

"So, do you always wake up so…spirited?" Edward asked in a low, hushed voice. He brought his lips again to my neck and shoulder, slow moist kisses interrupting my thought process, his hands back on my hips, pulling at my underwear.

"Maybe," I responded, a playful smile upon my lips, every inch of my skin burning with anticipation. "Do you?" I reached down to pull his hard dick from the confines of his boxers, wrapping my hand around his length and slowly pulling with every rock of my hips.

"Fuck, Bella. You have no idea how that feels. There are no words." Edward rested his head against the skin of my cheek. I swear the word fuck had never sounded so beautiful as when it came from Edward's lips . His low voice sent my body aching for his touch, the pressure slowly building begging to be satiated.

"I think I have some idea," I responded. I reached down to pull his hand from my hip and placed it between my legs, guiding his hand to push my panties aside. I sighed with satisfaction as his fingers came into contact with the warm, pulsing flesh.

"Bella!" he exclaimed in a deep groan. "Fuck, that is…just spectacular." I grinned at his description and leaned back so he could have a better angle. He massaged my skin and pushed his fingers into me, grazing my clit, the intense spark of pleasure causing further undulations to roll through my body, and I longed for that greater connection, that unifying of body and soul, our very spirits mingling in pure ecstasy. Edward quickened his fingers, causing me to moan out loud, the sound of my voice shocking in the silence of the house, and I felt the building ache begin to crest. I leaned forward to slow the release, bringing my forehead to his so I could inhale his scent. The smell of Edward's skin was briny and crisp from our excursion to the beach and I was reminded of our earlier connection, and remembering how it felt, the security of the unifying act, made me want to feel him inside me again, a renewed surge of desire spiking through my core and radiating into every fiber of my being.

I pulled away from him, slipping the messy cotton underwear from my hips. Edward's eyes, the green of the ocean dark with lust, fixated on me the whole time, moving from my hips to my belly, lingering on my breasts and finally to my face. I dove into those ocean eyes, wanting and conductive, transmitting a multitude of emotions and he was the most beautiful, fucking ethereal thing I'd ever seen and I had to tell him, let him know how the very sight of him caused me to stop and marvel.

I moved to lay beside Edward, running my fingers along his face, his jaw covered in stubble and his delicious lips slightly agape. "Edward," I pulled his face to mine, tasting his full mouth, "Edward…God, I love your lips," I could hardly speak between the frantic kisses. I pulled him on top of me and lifted his bloodstained white shirt over his head, pushing his pants and boxers off his legs with my feet. I kissed his chest, the softness of fine hair and the paleness of his skin enticing as he struggled to help me rid him of his clothing, running my hands all over the muscles of his stomach and chest. "I love touching you," I said, my brain unable to stop my mouth from spewing my every thought.

"I love you touching me," he responded with a small chuckle, removing the remainder of the cumbersome clothing. There was no hesitation this time, no reservations about what would happen or how it would feel, just pure need and anticipated fulfillment, easy and comfortable.

Crawling back on top of me, he gazed intently into my eyes, his hand moving to push the hair out of my face. "Bella, you're so beautiful," he whispered, bringing his lips to mine as his words danced in my brain. I could feel his erection pressed against my inside thigh, and breathing became difficult as the anticipation caused thrill and excitement to clench at my chest. I reached down to feel him, to move him into prime position, and without further direction Edward pushed himself into me, my skin stretching to accommodate his width, my body tight around him and we groaned in unison, causing a soft giggle to slip from my lips at our mutual satisfaction in this initial thrust of warmth flooding and filling me. Edward smiled as he pulled my lips to his, our tongues patient and rolling, his hips pushing deeper into me. I gasped into his mouth, my body broadening with a delicate strain, but I could feel him inside me now, sliding and trembling. I wanted to feel every part of him as I moved my hips in small circles, trying to force myself onto him completely. I clutched at his back, my fingers digging into his muscular frame as our breaths became more strained, a harmony of noisy pants and grunts.

"I need you closer," I said desperately, the pressure of Edward's body connected to mine eliciting the need for a quicker, deeper friction. Edward's lips moved down my neck to my shoulder and I tangled my legs around his waist, the shift pressing him against my sensitive swollen flesh, the contact causing a spark of intense and powerful pleasure to jolt through me, my head rolling back as I moaned loudly and brought my fingers to tangle in Edward's hair.

"Holy fuck!" Edward muttered breathlessly, and I mirrored his sentiment. He brought his hand to my side, and I giggled, his fingers tickling my skin. "What's wrong?" he asked and stopped his movements.

"Nothing, I'm just ticklish, that's all." Edward grinned at this admission and slowly grazed his hand across my side again, eliciting another squirming jolt, the movement causing Edward to rub inside me in a particularly sensitive space of skin and I gasped, shocked at this new point of titillation, my eyes widening in surprise. "Shit! Oh, my God, that is unbelievable."

"You are so fucking adorable," Edward dropped his head and breathed into my chest, taking my barely exposed nipple in between his lips as I relished in this new sensation. I yearned for the feeling again and again as I raked my hands through his hair and pulled slightly as he rocked into me, using my legs to pull him further, my thigh muscles burning and throbbing as they tightened around his waist.

He began to move quicker now, like the tide of the ocean, each thrust a wave of tingles flooding over my skin and pulsing where we connected. We moved together easily, our bodies rippling in synchronization, breathing in heaves and gasps, low and whispered profanities filling the quiet. "So good, Bella, you just feel so fucking good, and warm and just fucking right," Edward whispered.

I responded with a lame "I know," but he had expressed my thoughts exactly. "Like we were made to fit together," I added breathlessly.

Edward moved in and out of me with fervor, my mind spinning and disbelieving that this was really happening and that it was really, really incredible. Each time Edward crashed into me I felt myself tighten around him, a sensation I couldn't even control, and I was surprised at how easy it was to not be in control of this. I was elated in the sense of satisfaction, the pure satiation filling the void inside of me. For the first time in my life I felt right, like I was exactly as I should be, because I fit so well with Edward like this, our connection seamed beautifully together, the rich fabric encompassing our bodies in sweet bliss and blanketing the experience with pure contentment.

The pressure spiraled and swirled within me now, the flesh surrounding Edward pulsing and tightening as my breathing became more erratic and gasping. I didn't want to speak or breathe for fear the feeling would subside. Edward wrapped his arm around my waist, lifting my body closer to him, one arm supporting him above me, my body completely wrapped around him in every capacity, and he moved with increased fervor, pushing and pulling,_"Input, output, electricity."_

I could feel the impending orgasm mounting and I reveled in the build, crying out to any deity that would listen, unable to control my voiced pleasure as I succumbed to the unraveling, my groin just throbbing and straining against him.

Just as the intensity of my spasm was subsiding, the shockwaves still vibrating against him, Edward pulled out and came on my belly. With a low "Fuck…" moaning from his lips, the warm sticky liquid ran down my sides, tickling my skin and filling my belly button, his dick pulsing on my stomach as the force of his body pressed our skin together.

I figured he didn't want to do that inside of me for fear of procreation, but he didn't know that was not an option for me, my body no longer engaging in the reproductive cycle. Pregnancy required ovulation, something my body no longer did. I couldn't really explain this to him without disclosing other information first but I felt he'd been deprived of a part of this experience that was particularly important. The culmination had to have been less gratifying for him and not that I minded the fluid splayed across my stomach, but I desperately wanted his fluid inside me, combining that part of him with me and quite literally absorbing a portion of him to stay with me always.

Edward collapsed beside me, breathing quietly and basking in contentment. I turned to face him and just beamed, the only response I could think of.

He smiled back, running his hands over his face and then through his tangled hair, the humid salty air at the beach having caused it to curl profusely around his face and the nape of his neck.

"Edward, it's okay, you didn't have to do that. You could have done it inside me, I'm not going to get pregnant." I didn't offer the reason why, but I would if he asked.

Edward looked at me perplexed and for a split second I panicked with the thought that he was actually going to ask me why, that I would be forced to stick to my honesty pact, and I would have to explain on the day that I first made love to him, I'd have to destroy him with this information. The thought quite ironically turned my stomach in self-disgust.

"Good to know," Edward said, pursing his lips a moment. "For future encounters, that is." He got up off the bed and grabbed his white t-shirt, swiftly cleaning my stomach, carefully sopping up the fluid before folding the shirt and using it on his own sticky untidiness. "This shirt is trash anyway," he said, shrugging his shoulders and causing a smile to creep upon my face, his buoyant demeanor just so damn adorable as he cleaned us up, still completely naked.

"I'm going to shower," I said, glancing at the clock. Four forty-five. I had no idea what time Charlie would be home and I did not want to be smelling of sex when he got here, but I didn't want Edward to leave either, not without some kind of verbal resolution of the evening's events. "Don't leave yet," I commanded, pointing my finger at him. I was suddenly feeling very insecure realizing I had no underwear on and I was going to have to walk out of the room. Edward, sensing my unease, tossed me my panties and I pulled them on, thankful Edward seemed to be able to read my expressions so readily.

"Um, I don't think that will be a problem seeing as how I'll be needing my shirt back now that my other one has been disposed of." Edward eyed the button up shirt still around my shoulders, the pink and black torture device still crushing my chest. It had been purchased by my mother a year ago and this was the second time I had worn it. I had only packed it because it still had tags and I couldn't bring myself to throw it out with tags, it had just seemed such a waste. Plus, it was kind of pretty, the pink gauzy fabric corseted and trimmed in black lace and bows.

"Well, then I'm taking it with me so you can't leave," I responded, wrapping the shirt around me and grabbing some incidentals as I left the room to shower.

I washed and lathered, anxious to get back to Edward, anxious as to what he was discovering about me as he sat alone in my bedroom. I wondered why he had been reading instead of sleeping when I had woken up, and I basked in the many revelations that had happened this evening, all the while indulging in the hot spray of the water as it streamed onto my scalp and down my back, washing away all the evidence, the textures, the smells, the tastes, the very essence of what we had experienced. I swiftly dried my body and toweled my hair, pulling on my sweats and stones t-shirt, not even bothering to brush my hair, simply pulling it into a wet bun. I knew I would pay for this decision later but for now Edward time was far more valuable than the time it would take me to detangle this infuriating mess later on.

I rushed to the bedroom to find Edward sitting in the rocking chair reading that same book. He was wearing his jeans now and my fucking AC/DC t-shirt which looked ludicrously small on him, the hemline well above his belly button. I laughed out loud, the sight of Edward in my shirt so ridiculous I could hardly breathe.

"What?" he asked, his eyebrows creasing in feigned nonchalant inquiry as I practically collapsed from the lack of oxygen.

"Oh…my…God, that is…the funniest…," I couldn't even get the words out, I was laughing so hard my side started to cramp. "You have to wear that all day now."

I threw him his button up shirt and he grinned, pulling the shirt on over the tee and buttoning it. I watched his fingers work, the impish grin still on his lips. Walking over to him and desperate to show my love for this silly boy, I placed a small kiss on his hand. His hands stopped their work and he looked at me, surprisingly frowning and catching me off guard.

"What's wrong?" I asked, worried some negative secondary emotion had invaded while I had been in the shower.

"This will not do at all," he said, motioning to my hair. "I was compelled to run my fingers through your hair and now I can't. What the fuck is up with that?"

I laughed again, my initial concern abated. "Well, I was afraid you were rifling through my drawers or something. It seems I had cause for concern," I said, pulling at my shirt on him.

"Where's your brush?" Edward asked, pulling my hair free from the twisting band, his hands smoothing my wet hair down my back and around my face.

"Bathroom," I answered, pathetically excited at Edwards fingers in my hair. Before Edward could move I ran to the bathroom and got the brush, returning to find Edward still seated in the rocking chair.

He motioned for me come sit with him, grasping my hand when I got close enough and pulling me to sit on the floor between his legs. I sat on my knees, my ankles crossed underneath me, and Edward brought his hands to my hair, his fingers grazing my neck as he collected all the rogue tendrils and pulled the brush through the tangles, carefully and gently not allowing the knots to cause strain on my scalp. Tingles of electricity skimmed over the surface of my scalp, down the skin of my back and arms as he continued to detangle my locks, and I closed my eyes, drowsiness pulling at my eyelids and I continued to nod off until he finished, not concluding until every last tangle had been worked through.

This small gesture reaffirmed my love for him, for his cultivating nature, his only goal in this life to provide others with nourishment. He did it with his cooking, offering others sustenance and expecting nothing in return, not even love, believing himself undeserving and damaged, his demonic bomb forever the culprit. I wanted to provide that same feeling for him, help him see that he is so worthy and deserving of it all. I wanted to selfishly wrap him in this love, keep him to myself and never let him function outside it. Of course, this wasn't feasible and I settled on kissing him instead, turning my head upward to ask for a declaration upon my lips. Edward responded, slow and sweet, his lips pressing to mine.

He pulled away and gazed at me intently. "You love me you know." He said it with such conviction I was seriously starting to think divination ran in the family.

"Oh really? And how did you stumble upon this information, might I ask?" I responded, turning to face him now.

"Oh please, Bella, it's all over your face. You're so easy to read, like a motherfucking Judy Blume book." He squinted his eyes, bringing his face very close to mine and trailed his finger across the bridge of my nose. "See, says so right there, I love Edward Cullen."

I snorted, "Judy Blume, huh? Is that your choice of literature, _Superfudge_?"

"Hey, don't knock Fudge. That little dude's hilarious." Edward grinned at me, sliding off the rocking chair and joining me on the floor, pulling my hand to his lips and gently kissing my fingers. "Besides the fact you're an open book," he whispered, "you're also a sleep-talker."

My face flushed with red and I knew that I had said it during the dream, the catalyst for my realization and my apparent voiced declaration.

"Well, you love me too," I said, not meeting his eyes in case my assumption was denied.

Edward sighed, his fingers on my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. "Truly, I do," he said softly, goosebumps exploding onto my skin and tears brimming in my eyes. In a most magical, most spectacular display, Edward pulled my face to his and gave me the tiniest of pecks forcing the streams down my cheeks, causing my chest to swell and pulse, my lungs having a difficult time expanding because this kiss was so much more than a mere peck. This kiss wasn't filled with desire or lust or pain or urgency. This kiss was so much more meaningful than any of the others because he really meant it and so did I.

This kiss meant I love you.

…

**EPOV**

That kiss meant I love you. And I gave it to her. I fucking gave her a tiny little kiss filled with the most powerful emotion I think I'd ever felt, diffusing even the hate and disgust that had encompassed me during my fight with Jasper. I loved her when she was crying about her father, her reminiscing difficult for me to hear but I thirsted for it anyway, the desire to know her that little bit more ever present. I loved her when I couldn't sleep, Bella's words too encompassing to allow my mind to rest and then, when she had whispered it, _"Edward, I love you,"_ I felt my love for her fucking explode, a solar flare blasting any doubt or hesitancy from my being. I loved her when we were making love, the fucking most amazing thing I've ever experienced, better than porn, better than running, better than fucking mushroom ravioli in a buttery basil sauce with sautéed pine nuts.

Making love to Bella was a high I'd never before felt, a fulfillment I didn't think capable, and she had given herself to me, so brave and vulnerable, so passionate and free in her actions, I couldn't help but feel undeserving. And she loved me, the sound of her voice reverberating in my mind, she fucking loved me.

It was seven thirty in the morning and I was driving home from Bella's house. She had fallen asleep about seven but I had a hard time convincing myself to leave for a few reasons. Primarily, I wanted to be with her, even if she was asleep, I just wanted to be near her. I loved listening to her breathe as she slept, her chest rising and falling in peaceful ease as I ran my fingers through her hair. I loved that shit.

Secondly, I didn't really want to see Alice. I was worried she'd be pissed and, after talking to Bella, I knew I was going to have to apologize to her. I didn't have to accept or forgive Jasper just yet, and I knew I was going to eventually, but I was still pissed at the fucker. I did have to accept my sister, not for any reason other than she was my sister and this was not the worst thing we'd been through together. But shit, did she have a temper when she was pissed. It was best to steer clear of her until she cooled off.

Lastly, Carlisle was going to give me the fucking third degree. When I had talked to him he had mentioned the fact that he knew I had a physical relationship with Bella and that even though he didn't know the extent of it, he really wasn't expecting me home tonight. I rolled my eyes and blew him off but now I was going to have to tell him about it. He was going to ask all kinds of doctor questions, like did I wear a condom, and I was going to have to tell him no, but that it was cool, because I pulled out and I was pretty sure Bella was on the pill. I made a mental note not to use the words "pretty sure" when I discussed this with Carlisle. I wasn't embarrassed or ashamed, I just didn't like having to explain shit, especially when the shit included sex and Bella.

When I got home, the house was remarkably quiet. I didn't know what I was fucking expecting, but this silence was not it. I walked into the kitchen, the room clean and empty. I listened for a television set or radio or anything that would signify the presence of people, but I didn't hear anything. I climbed the stairs to my room, pausing on the second floor to find Alice's door closed. She was probably sleeping, a closed door usually meant stay the fuck out.

Maybe everyone was still asleep. I had to admit, I would have been too if it weren't for the fact that I was just getting home. I turned the corner and climbed the second set of stairs, dragging my feet, the effects of exhaustion now weighing on me. I was fully intent on taking a fucking shower and passing the hell out, but when I entered my room, a small form was curled up on my bed.

Alice was asleep on my bed, her tarot cards and astrology papers sprawled around her. I moved silently to the bed, picking up one of the papers to read it. Scrawled across the top of the page it said 'Jasper Hale, October 13th, Libra', followed by a large wheel decorated with various symbols and lines, confusing as all hell. Underneath the wheel were various details concerning his personality traits and some shit. She had a paper just like this for each of us, even Bella, everyone important in her life, she had chronicled their personality traits, their strengths and weaknesses, even those that were most compatible.

Alice had invested hours and hours into this, it meant that much to her, and I realized then how much Jasper meant to her. Shit, if this fucker meant that much to her, my hands were pretty much tied here. I would have to befriend the asshole, who I actually only thought was an asshole because I had assumed he was trying to snake my girl and push drugs onto my sister. Now that I knew the truth, some of the hatred dissipated and I was left with just genuine dislike. Baby steps, right?

Grabbing some clothes, I went to the bathroom to take my shower. Exhaustion was threatening to take over and I'm pretty sure I washed my hair twice because I couldn't remember if I had already done it. Ready to pass out, I let Alice sleep on my bed and crashed on my couch, the cushions welcoming me as I drifted off to a comfortable dreamless sleep.

…

I awoke disoriented, unsure where I was at first, the couch not being my primary place of slumber, and having spent the majority of the night at Bella's, not knowing what time it was. My back was sore as fuck, my face felt about the size of a dinner plate, and the knuckles of my right hand were swollen and scabbed from pummeling Jasper's face. I sat up, glancing at my bed and finding it clear of any evidence Alice had been sleeping there surrounded by her data, the occult, mystical evidence to state her case in favor of Jasper, I'm sure.

Running my hands through my hair, I left my room, ready for the hailstorm of shit that awaited me below. As I walked down the stairs I could hear Emmett playing his XBox, the wail and merciless cries of festering zombies screaming from the television set in the family room which meant I was not going to be able to get to the kitchen without crossing his path first.

"Hey there, sleeping beauty," Emmett said as I stumbled into the family room, his eyes fixated on the screen. "Jesus dude, it's fucking after two. I was getting ready to go lay a big wet one on you."

"Bring it baby, what are you waiting for? Gimme the wet one, please," I responded dryly, trying to get by without a mention of last night. I was pretty sure everyone in the fucking house knew about the Jasper thing by now.

"Please! You couldn't handle this big wet one," Emmett scoffed, never missing a beat, with a big goofy grin on his face. He loved this type of banter. Any time he got to talk about his own dick, he was thrilled.

I walked into the kitchen. Esme was at the counter, pouring water into the coffee pot. This meant that Carlisle would be home soon, Esme preparing for their after work coffee break.

"Edward!" she exclaimed when she saw me enter the room. "How are you today? How was the bonfire? Did Bella have a good time?" Okay, either she really didn't know what had happened or she was really good at pretending she didn't. I walked over to kiss her on the cheek before opening the fridge, looking for something to eat. I was fucking starving, my stomach on the verge of digesting itself if I didn't eat something soon.

"We had a good time, I think. I showed Bella the tide pools. That was cool." I was searching for a chicken parmesan sandwich I knew I had put in here yesterday, knocking shit out of my way. If Emmett fucking ate my sandwich, I swear to God, I was going to microwave his XBox.

"Are you looking for your sandwich? Check the crisper. I hid it in there so Emmett wouldn't eat it," Esme said. I opened the crisper and sure enough, there it was.

"Thanks," I muttered, placing the sandwich in the microwave. "Um, so where's Alice?"

Esme turned back to the coffee maker. "She's out with Jasper Hale, I think. They went to Port Charles for lunch." Well, that was fucking quick. But then I thought, what if it were Bella and I and the roles were reversed? Would I want to waste one fucking day without her? Not a chance in hell.

The microwave dinged, pulling me from my introspective quandaries and drawing attention to the now warm, cheesy chicken and marinara conglomeration available for my consumption. Esme stared at me while I ate, the look of concern and contentment contradicting in her gaze.

"Edward, I'm just going to say that she's your sister and she deserves to be happy." So, really good at pretending then. I stopped chewing, realizing that I might as well call a big fucking family meeting and spill my guts to everyone around the dinner table. I didn't want to have to relive this misery five times today.

Instead, I forced a grin, my mouth full, and nodded. She smiled back and added, "And you do too. So I'm glad that you've found Bella. You two make a good team." She let the coffee brew, walking over to me and giving me a small hug. I couldn't be upset with her really. Esme just always wanted things to be peaceful and loving. She'd made huge sacrifices for us, giving up her job and opening her home, not to mention enlarging her heart to encompass two more teenagers instead of just the big one. I didn't know how she could love us so much, Alice and I, but she blindly offered her compassion without even knowing if we deserved it.

I heard the front door open and shut. Esme pulled two cups from the cupboard while Carlisle's shoes slapped against the hardwood floor.

"Well, that's the most annoying thing to come home to." Carlisle placed a small kiss on Esme's lips. "The smell of chicken parmesan and knowing it's gone."

I shrugged, taking an abnormally large bite so I wouldn't have to speak, not yet anyway. Carlisle took his coffee from Esme's hand and sipped it gingerly as they walked upstairs to their balcony. I quickly shoved the last portion of the sandwich into my mouth and left the kitchen, joining Emmett in killing zombie hordes instead. Emmett's sixth sense must have kicked in because he didn't mention the bonfire once, like he knew I just needed a rest from the thinking and the questioning with all it's fucking enlightening implications. Shit just needed to be simple, just fucking brainless for a while. We killed zombies for about an hour before Carlisle called me into his office.

I sat down in one of the large leather chairs, the material straining and groaning beneath me. Carlisle left his chair to come around the desk, perching himself on the edge of the furniture. He gazed at me appraisingly and I felt it coming, the words just fucking buzzing around his head as he sat there smug as shit.

"So, how is Bella?" Fucking polite bullshit. This was going to be worse than I thought.

"She's good. She's worried about Charlie," I offered, trying to speed along the process.

Carlisle pursed his lips, his eyebrows knitting together in concern. He was making a decision, I could tell. I just honestly didn't know what his decision had to do with Charlie.

"Charlie has some serious health issues and it's natural for Bella to be concerned. What you're doing for her, for them, is invaluable. But you and Bella can only do so much. Charlie needs to start helping himself." Carlisle frowned, worry creasing in his eyes.

"Right, I know. He's trying though. I've been showing Bella some things she can cook for him and I gave him some exercises he could do. If he'd just lose some weight, then-"

"Charlie has to do it," Carlisle interrupted. Something else was going on here, something between Carlisle and Charlie that I didn't know about, but this was not just about Charlie's diet. I knew that Carlisle wouldn't divulge, he was bound by patient/doctor confidentiality. But he was trying to tell me something, without actually telling me.

"Okay," I said with a shrug. I really didn't know what to say so I just agreed with him, trying to decipher his cryptic counseling.

"And you need to be careful with Bella. She's extremely vulnerable right now. Take care of her, Edward, she needs someone who is going to take care of her." That worried look was becoming a permanent fixture on Carlisle's face today and it was sort of freaking me the fuck out. I mean, Carlisle didn't demonstrate worry about anything, he was always calm and collected, a portrait of serenity and peace.

"Bella is great. I mean, yeah, she has some issues but we can deal with them." It was true, she had a problem, a big one that I didn't even know about and I didn't care because being with her made it all worthwhile.

"I only mention it because I'm assuming you have a physical relationship with Bella. Am I correct in this assumption?" Carlisle put on his doctor hat. Shit.

I nodded, not willing to divulge that shit. Carlisle nodded also and I could tell he wasn't going to push this further, the memory of our previous sex talk still burned in his awareness.

"Just be mindful of your actions with her, Edward. You are both very young and I understand it's natural to want to explore a physical relationship with someone you're attracted to. Just be safe, is all I am saying." Carlisle almost fucking blushed as he told me those last words and I was so relieved he wasn't going to explain further.

We had now arrived at the real reason for this discussion - Alice. There was silence between us as Carlisle mulled over how to begin.

"Edward, Alice told us about the beach, how you had an altercation with Jasper Hale. She described it in detail and I'm a tad concerned about what you were feeling when you decided to attack Jasper." He was going to send me to a shrink, I fucking knew it. I'd be back on the drugs, a fucking zombie just aimlessly milling around and looking for shit to fuck up. I wouldn't be able to be with Bella like that. I wouldn't be _enough_ for Bella like that. I was going to have to do some damage control.

I'd had to deal with this before and I knew exactly what to say to get him off my back. You don't go through shit like this without developing some survival skills. I'd read enough psychobabble to know that he was looking for remorse, which I had, kind of. He was also looking for insight, like did I know what I was doing and why, and I most certainly did. I had calculated every fucking detail of that fight, except the love shit. I hadn't been banking on that. Lastly, he was looking for control, was I in control of my body at the time. This was questionable. I knew what I wanted to do and I knew what I should do and it was under no control of mine that the two didn't correlate. Last night, the decision was not my own, but I didn't have to tell Carlisle that.

"I thought he was taking advantage of my sister and he was going to hurt her. I didn't know they'd been dating a while and I was pissed she didn't tell me. I took it out on him because I'm a hothead and, I don't know, I wanted to protect Alice or something. I made a mistake, but come on Carlisle, are you telling me you wouldn't have been shocked to all hell too?" I knew he would relate to my statement, having been thrown a couple curve balls in his life as well. He would let it go, I could see him easing with every word.

"I understand your frustration. But you can't go beating up every person that pisses you off. You need some strategies to manage your anger," Carlisle lectured. I had to tell myself not to get infuriated by this accusation, not to show Carlisle exactly what he was looking for.

"I'm going to start running again. I haven't been since…well, since a while ago. That should help." Admission is always the first step, a step that Carlisle got off on seeing. So that's what I gave him.

Carlisle nodded. "Edward, I've seen many positive changes in you since Bella has been in your life. I'm pleased with the progress and hopefully things will continue to improve. I'm very proud of you, son." Carlisle put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed.

I had to admit, I was pretty pleased with myself as well. I knew drugs and therapy weren't the answer, I'd been through that shit before. Fooling Carlisle would only last so long, I'd have to think of something else to keep him at bay. But Bella, that shit was all true, how she brought out the best in me, let me forget about my problematic past and possibly precarious future. It all came down to her, every decision, from the very meager like whether I should bring my coat in case she needed it, to the rather substantial of whether I should really try to go to school all the way in New York if Bella was in Forks. Every thought, every choice, even all the vegetarian shit I was cooking, it was all for her. Bella Swan was far more than my girlfriend or even my elemental match - Bella Swan was my life now.

...

A/N

Did you think I'd leave you hanging? C'mon???

Joni Songs

_Love_

_My Old Man_

_Electricity_

_River_

Tell me all about it my lovelies!!!

Bottom of Form


	14. When All the Black Cards Come

Disclaimer: I don't own it.

CH. 14- _"When All the Black Cards Come You Cannot Barter"_

**APOV**

How had this all gone so catastrophically wrong? Panic tightened in my chest and I actually brought my hand up to clutch at my heart, the constriction making my breathing difficult as I inhaled through my nose to try to abate the fear. I wiped the tears from my eyes with the back of my hand, the mascara running into them and burning, making it impossible to see anything. I swiped my hand through the fucking cards for the fourth time, knocking some of them to the floor in my frustration.

What the fuck was happening here? I had done four different spreads four different times and still kept getting the same shit, the same fucking shit! And the charts! I had checked all the charts, over and over, looking for any clues, any sign that any one of them were in danger, but I couldn't see anything, I just couldn't see. I pulled at my hair, sitting crossed legged on Edward's bed and rocking slightly, trying to ease the worry and anxiety that was now festering in my brain. The short tufts were sticking out all over, I'm sure. I'd been pulling my hair all night.

This was supposed to be relaxing and reassuring as I tried to make sense of the evening. Edward knew about Jasper now and although I was partially relieved, Edward had reacted exactly as I thought he would, with venom and violence. I knew he would be fucking pissed and try to kick Jasper's ass. That's why I had kept him hidden for so long in the first place. But the look in Edward's eyes when he pounced was wild and feral, and I knew he was not cognitive of what he was doing. His behavior frightened me to my very core and reminded me of a time when I had felt fear like that, when I had seen that fear destroy, and conquer and I was scared shitless it could happen again.

As I had laid the cards the first time I saw Edward, the splitting image of my father, and the images flashed to when we first arrived here, when he was thin and pale, his face and body mangled from whatever method of self abuse he had chosen for the night, unaffected by fear and dangerous to himself and to others as he yearned to be catatonic and rotting in a hospital somewhere. I heaved at the thought of his soul blackened by the disease that had destroyed my family, my body literally nauseated at the thought of accepting that Edward could develop schizophrenia. I couldn't let myself believe that if I had any chance of staying sane in this world. I knew that, if provoked, Edward would revert back to that time, when he could solve everything with a fight, reassuring himself that he _could_ feel pain, he wasn't numb, and in this regard reassuring himself that he might one day feel good.

And he does feel good, he does! I can see it in the way he looks at her, the way he talks about her, Edward loves Bella. And Bella, she loves him too, but she's sick. She is trying to be brave, to be a big girl and take care of business on her own, but fuck, she needs help. She is so fucking skinny, like maybe a hundred pounds…_maybe_. She always claims to be one ten and size four, but that is a load of bullshit. She doesn't see herself clearly or maybe she just doesn't see herself at all, avoiding mirrors so she can avoid the truth. My heart aches for her, my memory of the last time we hugged causing a sob in my chest and fresh tears to fall. There was not substance in it, no warmth or comfort of fatty tissue, just the cold hard bite of her bones. And Edward needs to know. He needs to know because he can help her and that is the ultimate goal, for Bella to get help. We already love her and want to her to be a part of our family, a part of us, and if something were to happen to her, it would crush us all. It would devastate Edward. I don't know if he would be able to recover from losing Bella and I _don't_ want chance to find out.

The second time I laid the cards I had visions of Bella, skeletal and weak, her body not even functioning on its own, a hospital gown covering her emaciated frame and her scalp visible from the loss of hair, her large eyes hollow and sunken in, a ghost in life. I saw her hooked up to machines, her straining heart barely able to function on its own, tubes and needles and tethered and bound. Or worse. Blue gaping lips, large vacant eyes, a grave site, fresh dirt and misty Washington rain, her tiny casket trimmed with pink roses and purple lavender while my brother crumbled.

I pulled Bella's chart again, examining her horoscope, searching for clues of early demise or injury, any hint in the stars that she was who these damn cards were pointing at. Nothing. Nothing outright, just like the cards were declaring. The cards, the fucking cards, had _never_ been this persistent before. Sure, they had predicted Jasper in a three card spread; Queen of Cups, the Moon, and the Knight of Cups - my past, present and future, but it all made sense in Jasper.

Jasper! My heart plummeted, his outright reckless behavior now cause for concern and grief. The drugs, the alcohol, sure they had abated, but what if I wasn't enough to keep him from using? What if he wanted that life back, crazy nights of partying followed by stunts to get attention from his parents, stunts he hoped would land him in the hospital or in prison because maybe there he could finally get noticed by his arrogant as shit and neglectful socialite parents. He hated them and craved them all at once. The third spread brought visions of Jasper in an alleyway, his veins bruised and broken, eyes red and bloodshot and bloated, void of life, and I brought my hands to my hair again, sobbing and falling into the bed, muffling my cries with Edward's comforter as I let the grief consume me.

I had known Jasper would come find me that day at the diner. The cards had predicted it. They had predicted Bella, that sweeping change, the day before she got here I had done a random reading and she was in the Lovers and the Star, hope arriving the next day. Hope for my brother, but my brother serving as hope for her too. My conviction in the cards was not unfounded but solidified in my notebook, pages and pages of proof that the cards speak the truth. But I had never experienced this before. The same five cards kept coming up, even when I used a spread with more cards, like the cross or the horse-shoe, they always made their way into it.

I had even tried changing the scenery, like maybe the cards were too acclimated to my bedroom. I brought everything, all the charts and cards to Edward's room, setting up camp on his bed, which brought me to the reading I had just done. It just didn't make sense.

Until I realized it makes perfect sense. Everyone around me is trying to destroy themselves.

I wiped my eyes, my sobs easing into slight hiccups, and I frantically gathered the entire deck with shaking hands. One more. One more time I would lay these cards, just to be sure, just to see. I inhaled deeply, trying to calm my nerves, petrified at what I might see in front of me. I shuffled the cards again and again, the task difficult because of my trembling fingers.

The star. I would do the star. A symbol of hope, it had to shine through somehow, it just had too! _Focus Alice, focus like everything depends on it. _ I pulled the first card and placed it in the first spot.

I gasped, my breath caught in that card, Justice; the courtroom, where judgments and decisions are made, a past mistake in the position of what I can see. Yes, what I have already seen four times tonight. Silent tears rolled down my cheeks in acceptance. I already knew what I would find when I lay the remaining cards, I could even almost predict their positions. I followed through, not to discover now, but to confirm.

My breathing slowed as I laid the second card, what I can't see, the three of swords; heartbreak, betrayal, sudden pain, terrifying curve balls that life throws at us, an open wound, sharps and shards jabbed through the heart, hitting you when you least expect it. It was going to be sudden.

The third card, what I could change, Temperance; quiet composure, temperance is comforting and centered, a need for moderation, balance, self-restraint.

My fear lay in the fourth, the worst I was sure, what I cannot change, The Tower; fire, lightning, falling on jagged rocks, sudden change, having a revelation and realizing the truth, falling down, experiencing a crash. I thought of every single person in my life and how this card could be for them, could be their downfall, could be my downfall.

The fifth card in my hand, I was completely blank. I threw it to the bed, five of cups, exactly what I was expecting, ironic in the place of expectation. Bereavement, loss, draped in black and bathed in grief. Defeat, regret, sorrow. My whole body froze as the last tone of hope and peace drained from it. I rolled over onto the cards and charts, gently rocking my legs in a soothing rhythm, clutching at the hole in my chest and folding into a ball.

There was nothing I could do, the finality of the statement wallowing in my heart, sealing itself in my brain. Something was happening, something dark and threatening to our whole way of life, something that none of us could control. I couldn't even warn them because they wouldn't believe me. They'd laugh in my face, or worse, they'd lock me up in that hospital, all my charts and notes proof that it was I who followed in my father's footsteps, not Edward. Realization dawned on me that it very well could be my own demise the cards were predicting. Whatever it was, the cards had predicted it and it was coming. And someone wasn't going to make it out alive.


	15. A Reminder You're Just Not Good Enough

**Darlings,**

I just have to say that I'm so grateful for all the thoughtful reviews. You dolls are such a phenomenal audience, I love chatting with you and reading all your insightful comments!

A couple sweeties to note, **Allysue08**, thanks love for the little shout out in your A/N, **Orlipanda**, who reminded me of the wonders of Limoncello and **pixiekat7** for being my own personal cheerleader this week! Check out my profile page for other bb's that give this story love...

Dear, dear beta **n7of9**, oh how I wish I could make Rob your cyber twin…sorry but you're stuck with me instead sweets (btw, that's funny). Big smooches to you babe!

Disclaimer: It's not mine.

**CH. 15- **_**"Only a Reminder that You're Just Not Good Enough"**_

**EPOV**

I stirred the pot of bubbling minestrone soup on the stovetop, the tomato aroma complemented by the various vegetables softening in the broth. The intense colors were mesmerizing, the vibrant greens of the beans, spinach and zucchini in direct contrast with the red drape of broth. I tasted a small amount, the tangy burst of flavor indicative of vegetable and bean infusion. I pierced a piece of carrot with a fork and it was starting to soften, so I tossed in the bag of shell pasta to absorb some of the liquid.

It was my peace offering to Alice, I knew how much she loved minestrone soup. It had been a favorite of our mother's and Alice always felt better after she had a bowl. I emulated the recipe exactly, even remembering to splash in a small amount of red wine, a secret ingredient my mother always added to make her soup taste that little bit special, that little bit hers.

I readied the romaine for the antipasto, tearing the leaves and placing them in the colander to rinse. The salami and provolone julienned and waiting in the fridge, I mixed the balsamic vinegar and olive oil, salt and peppered the dressing, and carefully added the dried oregano, basil and garlic. I placed the dressing in a bottle and shook to blend the liquids and disperse the herbs.

Stirring the soup again, I heard the front door slam. There was a long pause in the entryway, five whole minutes of contemplation before Alice walked gingerly into the kitchen.

She was still wearing that brown velvet jacket, Jasper's claim on her, I assumed. She crossed behind me, hopping onto the counter and crossing her legs in front of her. Pulling out a parcel from the pocket of her jacket, she opened the brown bag and produced a fresh deck of tarot cards and unfolded one of the various scraps of silk from her room. She spread the silk across her lap and began shuffling the cards in her hands.

I watched the cards moving in her hands and I started to apologize. "Alice, I…" but she stopped me with her small hand, holding up her index finger indicating she needed a moment. I sighed, anxious to have the words out and be done with this fucking mess.

Alice continued to shuffle the cards while I ran the spoon through the soup, waiting for her to gather her thoughts.

Finally, the cards stopped and I turned to see Alice flip over a single card. Her eyebrows creased and I craned my neck to see it but she snatched it up before I could. Alice's tired eyes glanced up at me and for a moment I saw pain in her expression. She must still be thinking about the fight last night.

"Doesn't count, new cards," I heard Alice mutter under her breath, and she continued to shuffle the deck.

Another fucking long-ass uncomfortable silence. The need to say something pressed on me now, fucking suffocating my patience, and again I tried to speak. "Alice, listen I…" and again she cut me off.

"Edward, do you have any idea what you did to his face?" Ouch. Yeah, I was pretty sure this was going to take more than fucking minestrone.

"Yeah, Alice, I know what I did," I muttered, my eyes inspecting my own hand, knuckles braised and scabbed over, flexing my fingers and absorbing the ache. I deserved it.

"Are you even sorry? Because you're just in here cooking like normal, like you didn't even assault my boyfriend last night." I tried not to cringe when she called him her boyfriend, hoping she wouldn't notice. She just continued her ranting.

"You know that was assault, right? Jasper could press charges if he wanted. He didn't even fight back." Alice crossed her arms in front of her. Yeah, I had noticed that too. He didn't even take a swing, the first hit was a fucking accident. I guess it was kind of commendable. Shit! I had really fucked up here.

"Alice, of course I'm sorry," I said, my gaze still fixed on my knuckles. "I just…I just always want what's best for you and I didn't know. It's not like he's reeking of moral fiber. He sells drugs, for Christ's sake."

"You don't know the first thing about his moral fiber. You don't know anything about him," Alice retorted bitterly. It was true, I knew very little about Jasper, only that his parents were big in the community, his bitchy twin was dating my cousin, and he had an affinity for pissing on the long arm of the law.

I tried to find a way to explain my behavior. "I know, Alice. I just fucking snapped when-"

"Yeah, I was there, I remember," Alice interrupted, quietly. I looked up to find her staring at me now, her features laden with obvious concern and fear, and I knew why. I recognized that look, the fear a permanent fixture she had carried back in Chicago.

"Alice, it's fine. Okay? I'm fine. I was just…caught off guard. I don't know how to explain it, but I promise you, it's fine. I'm fine." I was trying to get the words out quickly before she could interrupt me again, but I was having difficulty finding the right thing to say.

"You already said that." Alice looked down at her fingers, the cards tumbling between her hands. She was seasoning or cleansing them, I don't know, I never can tell the difference. She'd explained it to me before, the cards had to absorb her energy or something.

I sighed, unable to articulate what I was trying to fucking say. What _was_ I trying to say? My mind had been a jumbled mess but after talking with Bella, everything became so clear, so precise, and now, without a record of the conversation, I couldn't put it into words on my own. Now it was just a feeling, a general feeling of ease and comfort.

Instead of offering her more futile excuses I turned back to the stove, bringing the wooden spoon to the pot and gently swirling the bubbling mixture. The pasta was soft now so I removed the pot from the heat, pushing it onto a cool burner. My back to her, I heard Alice slip down off the counter.

"Is that minestrone?" Alice was straining to peer around me as I placed a lid on the pot, insulating the soup and trapping the aromatic vapors inside.

"Yeah, it's a peace offering," I mentioned casually. "It seems I'm a bit prone to overreaction."

Alice snorted at this admission and a small smile crept across her face. "Well, it's a start. What else did you make?"

"Antipasto with fresh salami and provolone, and I marinated some green olives and artichoke hearts." Alice loved green olives, especially marinated in garlic infused olive oil with a splash of lemon juice and freshly chopped basil.

"Dessert?" Alice asked with a raised eyebrow, and I smiled at my sister, food once again easing an argument in my family. Since moving to Forks, no matter what, we always came together over a good meal, despite any slander or wrongdoing that had happened previously. Maybe that's why I loved cooking so much, because I could provide the catalyst for resolve, the meal the basis for our gathering around the dining table. This was what I could do for my family.

"Vanilla ice cream with fresh strawberries and topped with…wait for it…" I paused for dramatic effect, "Limoncello."

"Well, fuck! I was going to be angry with you for a while longer, but now I don't know if I'll have the grounds." Alice's small grin faded. "Just promise me, Edward, that you'll try to control the fighting. Please? One of these days you're going to fuck with the wrong dude and find yourself seriously injured…or worse." Alice's features darkened at this statement and I rolled my eyes at her worry. I could handle myself in a fight. That should be the least of her worries.

I was about to tell her this when she continued, "Just be careful. You matter to people."

I nodded, absorbing the implications of her statement. I did matter to people, I mattered to Bella, and it was true that I did need to be aware of my actions, even more so now. There was a contemplative silence, both of us lost and wading through our various thoughts and queries.

"He asked me to prom, you know," Alice finally spoke, breaking the quiet.

"Shit, you're going to prom? Are you even allowed to go to prom? You're only a Sophomore." Prom? What the fuck? What the hell had happened to my sister?

"Yeah, well, Rose and Emmett are going and Jasper said he wanted to take me. I don't know, it's kind of nostalgic, right? It could be cool, like _Pretty in Pink_ cool. I could make my dress out of other more stylish dresses and everyone will secretly think it's ugly but won't say anything because there's a whole sewing montage." I laughed at her explanation and let the positive pieces of our childhood creep their way into my memory. Alice loved that movie, she used to watch it constantly when we were younger, but she always hated the chick's prom dress. She'd go on and on about how she should have just worn the one her friend gave her and she almost cries when the chick starts cutting it up.

"Dude, rationalize it any way you want, prom is fucking lame," I laughed, tossing my dishes into the sink and running the tap.

"I don't think Bella will think it's lame," Alice hinted. "I mean, it's like a rite of passage or something."

"Bella will definitely think prom is lame," I snorted.

"What would make you think that? _She's_ not the introvert, Edward, you are," Alice countered. Again, the know-it-all was fucking right. Shit, did Bella want to go to prom? I guess I was going to have to fucking find out.

Just then, Alice gasped. "What? What's wrong?" I asked her, perplexed.

"Eighties prom. Dude, we should have an eighties prom!" Fucking Alice was going to make this shit unbearable.

"What the hell are you talking about?" I asked her, although I had some inclination as to what she was proposing.

"We should all dress in eighties formalwear for prom. That would be awesome!" She had the idea in her head now and there would be no swaying her otherwise at this point.

"Rose is not going to wear an eighties dress to her prom, you know that, right?" I countered.

"I don't care, she doesn't have to, but I bet Bella will," Alice smiled, smug as shit because she was probably fucking right. I sighed and resigned myself to the idea because if Bella wanted to go to prom, then I would take her.

"Fuck, Alice, I swear to God, the minute there's talk of a choreographed group dance, I'm out." Alice gripped my arm and I could practically see her designing the dresses in her head.

"Edward, you will not be disappointed. It'll be fun, I promise. I'm going to call Jasper. You have to ask Bella soon so I can start her dress. Prom is in, like, four weeks I think. That should be plenty of time." Alice pranced out of the kitchen, her mind calculating, I'm sure.

And just like that, I was going to prom in eighties formalwear, fucking white tuxedos and bow ties and shit, unless, by some stretch of the imagination, I could convince Bella not to go. But at least I'd get to see Bella all dressed up, that being about the only worthwhile thing about this whole fucking debacle.

I also had to figure out how I was going to ask Bella to go to prom with me without looking like a total douche. I was all for going if that's what Bella wanted. I'd do just about anything if it made her happy.

…

"Human blood types are genetically determined. The table below shows the symbols used to represent two of the alleles for blood types and gives a description of each allele." Bella tapped her pencil on our lab desk as she read the notes from the study guide. I traced the outer edge of her ear with my finger, pushing her soft curls behind it and fingering the loose tendrils on her neck. I just couldn't keep my hands off her, the exposed skin too inviting not to touch.

Spring Break was over and this past Monday the mundane misery of public education began its relentless inundation of torment. It had only been four days and already I was craving the next vacation, days of sleeping in late after quiet, remarkable nights with Bella. Just being able to freely spend my time doing whatever I wanted, which mainly consisted of spending time with Bella; talking to Bella, cooking with Bella, feeling Bella. I could hardly stand to be apart from her now, her absence a constant dull ache. I spent our time apart anxious for her return, wondering what she was doing, thinking of funny or interesting things I wanted to tell her, things I wanted to do to her. It was actually quite fucking alarming how much of my mental awareness was occupied by thoughts of Bella.

Mr. Banner was giving us time to complete a study guide that supposedly held all the answers to tomorrow's exam and Bella was frantic about completing it to perfection. It had been over a week since I told Alice I would ask Bella to prom – more than seven days of seeing her and not being able to ask. I don't know why I was so fucking nervous, I didn't really think she was going to say no, but then again, she might just laugh in my face. I didn't think I could stomach either.

Bella turned her head to kiss the fingers now drawing lines in the curve where her neck flowed into her shoulder, her indigo v-neck t-shirt a dark contrast to her creamy skin and displaying the indentions of her collarbones and shoulders quite torturously. It took every restraint imaginable not to just sink my teeth into that naked curve. Instead, I let my fingers do the adoring where my lips could not.

"Then there's this stupid chart and it asks us to find the blood type of their fucking offspring. Shit! I know he said something about this yesterday. Where are your notes?" Bella was flipping through her spiral notebook, looking for yesterday's information.

"I didn't take notes yesterday," I mumbled, my fingers still enthralled with the flow and ripple of her neck and shoulders.

"Yes you did. I saw you, you were definitely writing something." Bella turned her body to face me now and I brushed the stray strands of hair from her face.

"Recipes, ingredients. I had an idea for a dish." I shrugged my shoulders and nodded towards the study guide. "Let me see that."

I glanced over the problem. It was simple enough, I did some quick calculations in my head. "D, One-fourth," I said, handing the packet back to Bella.

Bella just blinked a few times, her long lashes quickly dusting the top of her cheekbones.

"I hate you," she muttered, rolling her eyes and turning back to her notes, a slight smile upon her lips. I laughed quietly, running my hand the length of her back and leaning in swiftly to kiss her cheek, her lavender essence intoxicating as it invaded my senses.

"So, how you doing on attendance this trimester?" I asked, allowing my hand to gently massage the nape of her delicate neck. She leaned into my fingers, her lids fluttering closed and just so fucking beautiful.

"Hmm?" she mumbled, still relaxing into my touch. Her mouth opened slightly and I wanted to press my lips to hers, run my tongue along her slightly glossed pink flesh. All I could focus on was Bella, her mouth, her neck, her hip pressed against mine…

Fuck, I needed to get out of here. And I was taking her with me.

"Can you skip gym? Or are you particularly looking forward to badminton this afternoon?" I hummed quietly into her ear. She inhaled sharply, turning her gaze to me and sinking her little white teeth into her fleshy bottom lip.

"Oh, I don't know," she said, her tone rich with cynicism. "I think I've missed at least one day of gym a week since I've been here."

"Come on, Bella, it's healthy to ditch class now and then." I trailed my fingers down her spine, my hand tracing slow spirals on her lower back and causing her to slightly shiver beneath my touch.

"Well, you know me, I'm a health nut," Bella said, sarcasm seeping from every syllable. "You should let Alice take the Volvo and you could just ride home with me."

"I don't know, Bella. Have you ever actually ridden with Alice? She fucking speeds and she thinks she can multitask. There's nothing more threatening than a driver with mascara and a lead foot." I shuddered a little at the thought of Alice driving my Volvo but I didn't want to leave her without a ride.

"C'mon! Let me take you home. Please?" Bella pretended to pout, her bottom lip jutting out in flirtatious fullness, and fluttering her long, dark lashes. It was almost too much to bear.

"Alright! Fuck, you know I can't resist you all pouty and adorable and shit," I teased. Bella beamed at me, collecting her notebook and study guide and tossing them into her tote bag. I hated to have to tell her she wouldn't be getting much studying done this evening.

We met Alice outside the lunch room and she was way too excited to be getting the keys to my car in her grubby little fingers. After Alice pranced off to class, we walked to Bella's truck, engaging in the usual "who's going to drive" banter. As much as I wanted to let Bella win this time, her familiarity with her truck giving her the advantage, I really didn't want to have to explain driving directions to my house. So I persisted in the argument and eventually Bella succumbed to my persuasion.

I was still adjusting to the timing of Bella's truck, but I didn't stall once this time, earning me a big fucking job well done from myself as I pulled into the driveway. Carlisle's house was on a street diverted off the highway, a little further into the heavily wooded areas of Forks and nestled back against a mountain dense with cedars and firs, the misty evergreen backdrop draped in moss and crawling with vines. When Alice and I first arrived here I had been mesmerized by the green, the leafy landscape contradictory to the concrete forest of downtown Chicago, and the cool, clean atmosphere, crisp with organic aromas, a stark contrast to the thick, heavy air of the city. I found in Washington a place I could breathe, even when I didn't particularly want to.

As we walked to the front door I realized that Bella had only been here a couple of times and had never even seen my bedroom. We always spent our time at her house, especially since Charlie had returned to work, the lack of parental supervision just too inviting and convenient.

The house was quiet and vacant, Esme the only occupant, probably in her drawing room or something. Bella walked quietly beside me, apprehensive and a little fucking nervous, which was a little fucking cute. I took her hand and pulled her up the stairs.

Esme appeared in the doorway of her bedroom. "Edward? Oh! Hi there, Bella." I knew she wouldn't be pissed at me for ditching, as long as I kept my grades up they wouldn't harp on me about shit like that. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's fine. We just left early," I said quickly.

"Oh, okay. Well, it's nice to see you, Bella," Esme said, giving Bella a tight hug. "We miss you around here."

"Thanks," Bella said, blushing. I could tell she wasn't used to this type of physical display of affection. You'd think her parents never hugged her, the way she blushed and received the hug with cumbersome comfort. It made me want to wrap her in my arms every minute of every day to try to repair some of the fucking damage.

"Well, I'm just finishing up some laundry and then I'm going to meet Carlisle for coffee. He's working a double shift tonight so he won't be home until late," Esme said, walking back into her room and leaving us on the landing. Esme was pretty great about the meddling bullshit. She trusted me to make good decisions, even with all the fuck ups I had purposefully engaged in so early in our relationship.

I pulled Bella up the second set of stairs to my bedroom on the third floor. That was probably the best fucking thing about this house, I practically had the third floor to myself. There were two bedrooms up here, one for me and one Esme used for her crafts and designs and shit. Other than that, nobody ventured up here.

"Do you realize how cool this is, practically having your own floor?" Bella said quietly.

"Yeah, it's definitely a plus," I responded. "I had to rho sham bo Alice for this room when we first moved in. She claimed that because she was the only girl she should get the separate floor. A good argument, but I was insistent. Luckily, she's highly predictable. I mean, if I've learned anything growing up with Alice, it's that nine times out of ten she'll throw paper first."

I opened my bedroom door, thankful as all shit I had managed to clean up some crap last night and that I had made my bed this morning. Most days it remained a tangled lump of fabric.

"My room," I said pulling her inside. She walked in gingerly, a bit out of place. I couldn't quite place her apprehension - I'd been in _her_ room hundreds of times. I moved to sit on the bed, trying to appear comfortable and maybe project some of that ease onto her.

Bella walked over to the window facing the river behind the house which stretching into the wide expanse of darkened forest. "Wow, you have an amazing view up here." She stretched to take in the complete view, pressing her face to the window.

"Yeah, I can see right into the Crowley's backyard from up here. They're nudists, you know," I said winking as Bella whipped her head around to look at me, shock all over her pretty little face.

"Shut up! They are not." She turned back to the window, craning her neck again to see for herself. "Are they?"

I laughed at her gullibility. Bella scowled at me, muttering a profanity or two under her breath as she moved away from the window. She ventured over to my music collection, a large wall of CD's and LP's. Sure, I had all that music in digital format, but there's something tangible about having the hard copy. It was still fairly organized, a few of my more recent acquisitions still wrapped in plastic and tossed haphazardly on the shelf. Bella investigated the records first, instantly pulling one from the pile. I recognized the album immediately, the shaggy foursome pictured on the front a dead giveaway.

"Holy fucking shit, Edward. This," she paused, pressing the album to her chest, "this is a great fucking album. I can't believe you have this on vinyl." I moved to stand by her now, taking the album from her hand and removing the record from its protective paper covering. Placing the record on the turntable, I carefully lowered the needle into the appropriate groove.

The perfectly flawed scratchy mixture of guitar and drum filled the room, the upbeat tempo lulling the listener into a false sense of security, because when the lyrics arrive, a harmony of reminiscence, the tone turns melancholy. _"Some are dead and some are living, in my life, I've loved them all."_

I wrapped my arms around my life, pulling her into my being and swaying slightly, securing my lips to hers and trying to let Lennon say the words that resonated in my soul. She leaned into the kiss, pressing her small body to mine and bringing her hands to cradle my face. Breathing slowly into her touch, I continued with quiet, sensuous kisses, my hands clutching at the back of her t-shirt, just desperate for her to know the depth of my commitment to her, as if I could convey that with a fucking song and a kiss. I didn't really know how to convey it at all, but I'd take every opportunity to try.

The song over, and another filling the room now, I pulled my lips from hers. Her liquid eyes glistened and she brought her face to my shirt, using the fabric to absorb the tears on her cheeks. I chuckled softly, kissing both her eyes, the salty substance upon my lips, tasting whatever emotion this had sparked in her. Pain, understanding, longing, love - they were all there dwelling in her deep chocolate eyes.

And acceptance. Acceptance seeped from every pore in her being, her desire to prove her acceptance of me, of my love, despite all the flaws, nicks and scratches, just like that fucking record - it skipped every so often and had been digitally remastered to hell and back, but there was something so genuine in the original, something pure and raw that couldn't be replicated. It was fucking perfect, not in spite of its imperfections but _because_ of its flaws and irregularities.

"Best slow dance ever," Bella teased, still wrapped in my arms and reminding me that I still had something to ask her.

"So, tell me, what's you status on eighties formalwear?" I asked, leaning away to gauge her reaction. She squinted her eyes and pursed her lips, contemplating my motives, I'm sure, but probably formulating a smart-ass response as well.

"Are we talking polo shirts and khaki eighties or big hair glam rock eighties?" she inquired, bringing her hands to rest on my neck and smoothing the small curls that formed there, their appearance usually an indication that it was time for a haircut, but in this moment I was thankful they were there to entice her fingers.

"How about iconic cult movie eighties?" I clarified.

"I'm a sucker for eighties movies. I'm compelled to watch them when they're on. It's useless to resist." Bella shrugged her shoulders and I sighed, fully accepting the fact that I would be taking part in the most pedestrian of all high school traditions.

"Bella, will you dress up in eighties formalwear and go to prom with me?" I asked her. Surprise shot across her face, followed my sheer amusement, her lips spreading into a wide grin.

"You want to take me to prom? Seriously? Wait, is this Alice's idea?" Bella eyed me suspiciously and I gladly gave responsibility to my sister.

"Of course this is Alice's idea. Do you honestly think _I'd_ come up with fucking eighties prom?" I asked, teasing her. "Who the hell do you think I am? Do you even know me at all?"

"Hmm, I don't know, you've surprised me on more than one occasion," Bella retorted. "Do you want to go?"

"I want to go if you want to go," I responded honestly. I didn't want to fucking go to prom. No dude in their right mind actually wants to go to prom. We go because _they_ want to go, and if we don't, a guilt trip will most likely ensue.

"It could be fun. Is everyone going?" Bella inquired. I knew she was really asking if Rosalie was going. Rosalie made her uncomfortable. The bitch was always trying to get under Bella's skin, like she knew exactly what to say to piss her off. Bella handled herself well, but I knew having to deal with that shit was tedious.

"Yeah, they're all going, and Alice wants everyone to dress in fucking eighties shit," I said with clear distaste. "Rose already said no, along with other, more colorful words." Bella nodded, not meeting my eyes.

"It's okay. We don't have to go. It's not really a big deal to me," Bella said, still not allowing me to see her face. What the hell? She was acting all mopey and shit, like, upset that I had even asked her.

"What's wrong?" I asked, confusion written all over my expression, I'm sure.

"Nothing's wrong. It's fine. I mean, I don't really like dressing up much anyways, and I don't want to go if you'll be unhappy." She smiled, trying to convince me she was being honest, when realization dawned on me. Bella _did_ want to go to fucking prom and I had just asked her in the most non-romantic, non-gentlemanly way ever. Now she was just saying this shit to appease me, to make me happy. Fuck! I am such an asshole. I frantically searched for a way to salvage the situation.

"Bella, are you declining my invitation?" I asked, trying to pretend I wasn't such a jackass while smiling internally at the fact that this girl was acting like such a...well...girl. I had to admit, it was somewhat endearing.

The faintest hint of surprise flitted across her face, followed by a more knowledgeable gaze. "Hmm, changing your tune there, huh, Romeo?" She smiled softly, fully aware of my intentions, and presenting just another reason for me to love her. I should have known I wouldn't be able to pull one over on Bella, her brilliant mind always searching, seeing what very few did. I would have to appeal to the less logical side of her personality.

I took Bella's hand in mine, bringing her fingers to my mouth and letting them linger as I kissed each one with moist, full lips. Working my way up her hand and arm, I gently nipped and licked at the bend inside her elbow, pulling her closer as I continued to kiss up her arm to her shoulder, pushing her short sleeve out of the way. When her shirt became a nuisance, I slowly slipped the neckline of her stretched v-neck and the tiny strap of her black tank top down to expose her bare shoulder and neck. I continued to kiss her flawless ivory flesh with slow, sucking kisses, grazing my teeth along the skin as Bella inhaled sharply, her fingers clutching the back of my neck and a soft moan falling from her lovely mouth. I slowly brought my lips to her ear, lightly taking her lobe between my teeth and sucking slightly.

"Bella, will you go to prom with me?" I whispered into her ear, her hands moving into my hair and tugging as I pressed my lips into the space just below her ear.

"Yes," she said breathlessly, and I smiled into her neck, amazingly pleased that I had some power at least over this more primal, instinctual part of logical, brilliant Bella.

...

Fuck, I hate my sister. I ran my hands through my unruly hair again, glancing in the rear view mirror as I waited for Jasper, trying to control at least one aspect of my physical appearance tonight. I cursed out loud as I adjusted my black pants, the fucking crotch riding up and giving me a wicked frontal wedgie. I wanted to burn these fucking pants. Alice had found them at some shittyass thrift store along with the royal blue tuxedo jacket that was a size too small and the white ruffled tuxedo shirt complete with a fucking bow tie.

If someone would have told me a couple months ago that I'd be taking my girlfriend to fucking prom dressed in a fucking tuxedo from the eighties, I would have punched them right in the dick. The four weeks that I had been using to buffer the fucking shit I was going to have to endure tonight were up. There were only four more weeks left in the school year and with prom and then graduation approaching, the whole fucking town was thriving with plans and hope for the future. Alice had been spending every waking moment either working on prom dresses or hanging out with Jasper. He'd been spending more and more time at our house and I guess we had developed a general camaraderie over this eighties prom shit. I seriously doubt this is what he had been expecting when he had asked Alice to go with him, but now his hands were tied. It was because of his acceptance and agreement to go along with this shit that I allowed my dislike of him to somewhat dissipate. Anyone who would wear a fucking bolo tie with an ivory high collared shirt and purple tuxedo jacket simply for the sake of my sister had to be fucking cool.

The girls were getting all dolled up at Bella's house and I was supposed to pick up Jasper and then pick them up. Emmett and Rose were taking a limo with the rest of the wrestling team seniors, so tonight it would be just the four of us. Alice had told me at least nine times not to forget the fucking corsage in the refrigerator and that I was to leave my "pissy-ass attitude at home".

Well, I guess my pissy-ass attitude had snuck into my trunk or something because as I waited in my car I was seriously having doubts about following through with this. Then Jasper walked out the front door of his huge house, looking about as comfortable as the backseat of a hatchback, and I just had to laugh at this fucked up situation. Jasper looked like he stepped right out of a brat pack movie complete with a look of annoyance and contempt spread across his face. A plastic box in one hand and rocking suspenders and his bolo tie, he had yet to put on the purple jacket Alice had insisted upon. Jasper opened the passenger door and threw the jacket in the back seat. He huffed into the front seat and slammed the door shut without looking at me.

"Hey there, Duckie," I said, grinning from ear to ear in reference to Alice's all-time favorite eighties movie. "Um, Prince called, he needs his jacket back."

"Seriously? You want to do this? Just drive, dude. The sooner we get there the sooner this will all be over," Jasper pulled a cigarette from behind his ear and placed it in his mouth.

"Dude, you can't fucking smoke in my car," I said before he could light it.

Jasper looked at me appraisingly before shrugging his shoulders. "Fair enough," he said, placing it back behind his ear and pulling out a pack of gum from his pocket instead. He held a piece out to me and after some deliberation, I took the gum, unwrapped it, and started chewing. Jasper unwrapped his own piece and we silently chewed for the remainder of the short ride to Bella's house. I pulled into the driveway, noticing Carlisle's Mercedes parked on the street. Esme had wanted to be here to take pictures. They had seen Emmett off earlier, a horde of oversized seniors and their dates invading my living room for an hour while I was getting dressed. I didn't dare venture downstairs while they were at the house. I don't know why, actually, it's not like there was going to be anywhere to hide once we got to prom. I guess I thought maybe I wouldn't look so lame in the softly lit and crepe papered gymnasium.

We got out of the car, Jasper grabbing the purple jacket from the back seat and making sure we had the damn corsages, and walked into the house to find Esme, Carlisle and Charlie seated in the living room on the couch. Esme came over to hug us as Carlisle and Charlie voiced greetings. It was so cliché, the whole ordeal coming straight out of a bad eighties movie, and I wondered how much of this was coincidental and how much was on account of my ridiculously detail oriented sister.

As if to answer my questions, Esme spun around, muttering, "Oops, I'm supposed to get the girls" as she rushed up the stairs. Yep, pretty sure Alice's propensity to follow a theme had gotten out of hand. Carlisle and Charlie simply smirked.

Just then, Alice yelled down the stairs. "Jasper! Edward! You guys have to stand in the foyer! Don't bitch, just do it!" Jasper smiled at his girl and moved to follow directions while I reluctantly did the same. Esme came to stand with us, camera in hand.

Alice came down the stairs first and all I could think of was various Madonna song titles. She was wearing this fucking pink shiny strapless dress, the skirt gathered and covered in black polka dot lace. She was covered in all kinds of fucking accessories, like fifty bracelets around her wrists and black beads with a cross pendant ironically draped around her neck, big hoop earrings and black fingerless lace gloves, complete with a fucking headband in her tousled hair. But this wasn't even the worst part of it all. The worst part was that the ensemble didn't look odd on Alice one bit. I guess because she had dabbled in so many styles, this one didn't seem as out of character for her as it did for Jasper and I.

Jasper took her hand as she pranced down the stairs in her dangerously spiky high heels, a big black bow across the toe. He placed a small kiss on her gloved hand and whispered something into her ear. She turned her head to kiss his cheek and gaze into his eyes for what seemed like a fucking full minute.

Esme took a moment from snapping pictures to give Alice a hug and kiss her cheek. "You look beautiful sweetheart, just perfect," Esme gushed.

Carlisle and Charlie came to join us in the foyer and it started to get fucking claustrophobic in the small space. Thankfully, Alice called up the stairs. "Bella, your turn! And if I have to walk back up the stairs I'm making you wear the stockings."

I heard Bella voice a choice four letter word and smiled, eager to see what kind of damage my sister had done.

"Bella! Get your ass down here!" Alice yelled, causing everyone in the small entryway to flinch at her volume. I have no idea how someone so small could be so fucking loud. "Sorry, but the swearing _is_ necessary," she claimed.

Bella finally appeared at the top of the stairs, looking nothing like what I imagined. The majority of her hair was piled on top of her head, curl upon curl elaborately styled and pinned all the way down her back, the dark chestnut ringlets startling against her creamy skin. She refused to look up, staring only at her feet as she walked down the stairs. Her dress was deep blue satin, the top pulled tight across her chest, and I swear she had on one of those boob enhancing, miracle boner giving bras, the lovely cleavage pressing out of the top of her dress, the tiny straps stretched across her bare shoulders and a single string of black pearls circling her neck. There was a black bow across her delicate waist, the full skirt covered in black gauze or tulle or whatever the hell it was called and adorned with little black bows across the bottom. The skirt came to just below her knees and her bare legs stretched into black high heeled shoes, her little toes with a splash of black polish peeking through.

And then she was standing in front of me, her eyes sparkling and oozing sexuality, various shades of gray and blue smudged across her lids, her dark lashes full and curled. She licked her lips, a dark cherry lipstick painting the fullness, and I immediately frowned at this barrier. I was going to be wiping that shit off real quick.

I just stood there, fucking speechless. All I could think of was her black nail polish and those red lips and I was fucking gone, just in my own little world where only we existed and it was okay to feel your girl up in front of the whole family. Of course I didn't fucking do it, but I wanted to, holy hell I wanted to.

"Hey," she said quietly, her breathing a bit nervous as she glanced into my eyes.

"Hey," I responded, the exchange comfortable and settling both our nerves. I leaned in to kiss her cheek. "You're amazing," I whispered into her ear before lightly pressing my lips to her soft skin.

"Thank you. So are you." She licked her lips again, a slow smile spreading across her face, and I had to look away, these fucking pants too tight in the crotch as it was.

We moved outside to the porch, the small house cramped and warm with bodies. Esme made us stand in a billion different poses while she snapped her camera as Charlie and Carlisle chatted and quipped smart-ass remarks every once in awhile. Finally, Alice took charge and began ushering us to the car. Bella disappeared inside the house for a moment, reemerging with her tote bag and a small black sweater. We said our goodbyes and climbing into the car, headed for the school.

Bella sat in the front with me while Alice and Jasper crawled into the back seat. I just couldn't stop looking at Bella, her little ankles crossed, those fucking shoes just tormenting the hell out of me, and those lips! It all suddenly made prom the best idea ever and I made a mental note to thank Alice for suggesting it.

We arrived at the school to find the gym teeming with party going patrons, a sea of fucking sequence and tuxedos. There were twinkling lights everywhere, the prom committee really trying to church up the concrete walls and linoleum flooring. It looked like a scene right out of a bad horror film and I seriously looked around expecting to find a bucket of pig's blood precariously waiting in the wings.

The gym was softly lit to create some sort of ambiance, I suppose, a DJ blaring some of the most God-awful music I'd ever heard in my life, and the spinning disco ball was seriously affecting my vision. We could see Rosalie and Emmett dancing, well, if you could call what they were doing dancing, right in the middle of a large group consisting mostly of the Forks wrestling team and their provocatively dressed dates, who were taking full advantage of the opportunity to grind against some dude's dick and not be deemed a slut.

I looked around to find that Alice and Jasper had disappeared, probably hiding out, having a smoke or some shit.

"Do you want to dance?" I asked Bella. She turned to me, shock plain on her features, her shadowed eyes wide and brimming with such a mixture of fear and disgust, I had to smile at her expression.

"Hell no, they're practically fucking out there. Why would you subject me to something like that?" Bella asked cautiously.

"Do you want to get the hell out of here?" I asked, snaking my arm around her, feeling the smooth, cool satin straining across her tiny waist.

"Please?" she pleaded, causing me to laugh out loud. I brought my lips to her temple and placed a small kiss, inhaling her floral scent. She smelled different tonight, probably some perfume Alice had recommended, but it was delicious, not too strong, just faintly delicate and sweet, and for a moment I seriously wondered if I could taste it on her as well.

"Okay, let's find Alice and Jasper." We walked outside to see them hand in hand and heading towards us, the faint smell of whiskey and cigarettes lingering in their wake.

"Hey!" Alice shouted. "Let's get the fuck out of here. This is miserable." She gasped, a sharp intake of breath. "Let's go bowling! I bet the lanes are completely available tonight. Everyone's here."

I looked at Bella and shrugged my shoulders, silently asking her opinion. "Sure! I'm up for rolling the rock. It also fits with your eighties theme," Bella answered for us, a grin spreading across her lips.

"Technically, Bella, bowling is timeless. I agree, it has a somewhat nostalgic feel, but bowling is just as popular today as it was in the sixties, seventies and eighties," Alice retorted, dead serious.

Bella snorted. "O-kay," she mocked. "Good thing we brought the pop culture aficionado."

"You're damn right it's a good thing. You guys would be clueless without me," Alice laughed. "And you'd look terrible, probably wearing bowler hats and cummerbunds."

"What part of this tuxedo isn't terrible, Alice? Tell me, please, oh knowledgeable one." I held my shirt out as evidence, teasing. "And a bowtie? Are you fucking kidding me?" I removed the tie, freeing myself from the stranglehold of bad fashion.

"I don't know, dude. James Bond wears a bowtie," Jasper mentioned, casually.

"Yes! And he could totally fuck your shit up," Alice responded, using her annoying little finger to repeatedly poke me in the chest. I had to handle this shit or we'd be here all night.

"You," I said pointing at Alice. "You watch your fucking mouth."

"You," I said, pointing to Jasper now. "You mind your fucking business."

"And you," I said, pointing to Bella. "You give me a fucking kiss." Bella grinned widely as I pulled her into an overly dramatic smooch.

I let her go, clapping my hands together. "Let's fucking go bowling!"

Alice just rolled her eyes, pissed I had gotten in the last word, and stalked over to the car. We piled into the Volvo, assuming our same seating arrangements. It was silent in the car for about five minutes when Alice said quietly, "You watch _your_ fucking mouth."

We all just fucking busted, I mean, really laughing in great gasps and hoots. I don't know if it was because we were so tense and irritated about prom or the clothes, but whatever it was, it was fucking hilarious. We settled into an easy chatter after that, still giggling over the evening's events.

I pulled into the parking lot of the bowling alley and, sure enough, it was pretty empty. There were maybe one or two more cars, probably belonging to the poor bastards that had to work tonight. We quickly walked into the building, a low cloud cover beginning to settle on the town. I wrapped my arm around Bella, pulling her into my side, as she shivered slightly in the cool misty air.

I paid for two lanes as the woman at the counter asked for our shoe size and handed us the proper bowling footwear. After making our way to our lanes, we laced up our shoes and laughed at how well the shoes matched the rest of our attire, although I was a bit disappointed to see the departure of the sexy black heels Bella was wearing. She tossed our shoes below the seat with her tote bag and I eased my disappointment with the thought that she would have to put them back on to leave. I grabbed a couple of six pound bowling balls for Bella and Alice, who met this fact with nasty looks and eye rolls, but when they tried to throw the heavier ball, they failed miserably.

At some point during the second game, Alice started to get a little competitive and proposed a wager stating the losing team had to buy the other team ice cream sundaes from the diner. Now, I'm not saying I'm an avid bowler or that I should consider a career, I'm just really good at scientific shit, and bowling is all about physics. The angle of trajectory and speed of the ball coincides with the angle at which the pins sit in order to maximize pin ricochet and knock down the maximum number of pins. It's all fucking geometry and inertia. Needless to say, by the end of our third game I was fucking mopping the floor with their shit.

"C'mon babe, pick up that spare! It's the tenth frame, you get an extra throw if you pick it up. You can do it!" Alice was cheering on Jasper, despite the nearly impossible seven ten split he was trying to pick up. Jasper wasn't terrible, but it was obvious he'd never really bowled before, going for power every time rather than aim. By the third game, however, he had more or less caught on and Alice and Jasper's combined score was getting a little too fucking close to mine and Bella's.

"Oh, come on Alice. Don't give the guy false hope. That's the hardest split to pick up. Even professionals have a tough time with that one," I teased. Bella was standing by the ball return, waiting for her turn. Her dress swayed slightly as she rocked back and forth as she waited, holding her six pounder and looking so fucking cute, right down to the little bowling shoes on her feet.

"No mind games, ass!" Alice shouted at me. She turned her attention back to Jasper. "It's all in the wrist baby, come on!"

Jasper made his approach and smoothly tossed the ball down the lane, picking up one of the pins but leaving the other standing. Alice cheered nonetheless, whooping and hollering and jumping up to kiss him when he walked back to the semicircle of plastic chairs.

"You're right, Edward, that split's a bitch," Jasper commented.

"Yeah, you don't know how many times that bitch has screwed me over," I responded. "One eighty dude, decent score."

I got up to stand behind Bella now. She was a terrible bowler and this was bothering her slightly competitive side. She kept twisting her wrist when she released, causing a gutter ball half the time.

"Okay, so keep the wrist straight and throw it as hard as you can," I reminded her.

"Right, wrist straight, throw it hard. Got it." Bella repeated the instructions. "I'm still going to throw a gutter ball, you know that, right?"

"Positive affirmations, Bella, shit!" I laughed, kissing her lips lightly. "Just relax."

"Alright, I'm good," Bella said, moving to stand in front of the lane. She didn't approach the lane like most people did. Instead, she walked slowly to the lane, stood there a moment and then threw the ball haphazardly down the track. I tried to explain to her she should try to throw in one fluid movement, but she refused, arguing she'd probably end up falling on her ass and she'd rather suck at bowling than be sprawled across the lane.

Bella released the ball and after what seemed like fucking forever, it finally reached the end, surprisingly staying in the middle and knocking over five pins. Bella spun around, jumping up and down and shouting as we erupted into applause. It was so fucking lame and I was enjoying the hell out of it!

"Five pins! Holy shit! That's a personal best!" Bella was beaming, her lips flush and stretched across her even white teeth. I pulled her into an engulfing hug, kissing the curls piled on top of her head.

"You still have another throw and then we're heading to the diner for ice cream, on Alice and Jasper's tab," I reminded her.

She pranced back over to the ball return and quickly retrieved her ball. Again, she walked slowly and carefully to the lane and tossed her ball. The ball traveled exactly the same path as her last, right into the gaping hole where her already knocked down pins had been. Bella spun around again, shrugging her shoulders and skipping back over to us.

"At least it wasn't a gutter ball," she said, hugging me around my waist.

"Um, losers, yeah, we're ready for our sundaes," I gloated, turning around to face Alice and Jasper.

Alice stood up, moving to get her shoes. "We propose a rematch. Next weekend, same bet."

"Done." I said, putting my shoes back on and watching Bella slip her tiny feet into those fucking black heels. I reached to get Bella's tote bag, the strap getting caught on the chair and causing the contents to spill across the grimy floor.

"Fuck!" I exclaimed, bending down to pick up Bella's stuff. Bella bent down to help me, gathering up the contents and placing them back in her bag.

And that's when I saw it. A small plastic bag containing a shitload of little brown pills. Confirmation. Realization. Petrification. I didn't reach for it, frozen on the spot, but Bella did and then pulled her hand back when she realized I'd seen it.

"Edward. It's not what you think, I swear," Bella mumbled under her breath, trying to remain quiet and anonymous.

"Then what the fuck is it, Bella," I spat through my teeth. I suspected Bella had a problem with drugs, but I had been naively thinking she didn't need them anymore, that, I don't know, maybe I provided her with enough euphoria that she didn't need to get high or use drugs to feel good. I was such a fucking tool! How could I be so stupid?

I slowly stood up, leaving the rest of Bella's shit on the floor. I had to get out of here, away from them, all of them, because I could feel that rage boiling inside me, burning my ears and scalp. I wanted to fucking destroy something and I was afraid I would hurt someone in the process.

Bella stood up with me, clutching my arm. "Look at me, Edward. I'll explain, I promise. Just calm down, please?" I couldn't meet her eyes, glaring blankly at the wall instead, the neon pink and green script scrawled across the wall, the flashing pins momentarily distracting me from my mental anguish.

"Edward! Fucking look at me, damnit!" Bella was crying now, tears smearing her makeup, a black trail slipping down her cheeks.

I pushed past her, the front door my only refuge, and they all disappeared behind me. I just had to make it out that fucking door. My vision blurred around me and all I could see was that fucking glass door.

I could hear Bella behind me, grabbing at my arm, my shirt, my hand. I shrugged her off, needing to be away from her, away from the fact that I wasn't enough, away from the rage I felt corroding my insides, my gut twisting in fury and pressure building in my chest.

I walked swiftly to the Volvo, my legs carrying me on their own without much guidance, anger, fear and rage burning and swelling, pressure in my chest and head. Reaching the car, I felt the fury burst and I released my anger, driving my fist into the hood of the Volvo, denting the sheet metal and fucking leaving my hand numb and aching. But I felt the rage subside slightly, the ache in my hand drawing my attention away from the ache in my chest.

Bella was still behind me. She paused, standing away from me, fear and dread on her tear stained face. "Edward, I need to explain," she said quietly.

"There's nothing to explain, Bella." I didn't want to hear it, any of it, not now, not when I couldn't think clearly.

"Edward, I'm not on drugs. I promise you that. I got those from Jasper months ago. I've never even taken one, not one. Count them. I swear to you, I'm not taking drugs," Bella pleaded walking over to me now and leaning against the hood of the car.

"Why do you have them if you don't use them?" I asked confused. "Why would you carry them around in your bag?"

"Um… I have this thing… with food and they take away my appetite. I forgot they were in there, I swear. And I didn't tell you because I know how you worry and I was trying to take care of it myself," Bella looked down at her fingers, tears streaming down her face again, and I was now panicked that maybe Bella's problem wasn't drugs, but something far worse, something I hadn't even thought of, and that was more frightening than any of it.

I turned to face her, the sudden need to hold her, to touch her overpowering my grief. I gripped her shoulders looking into her face. "What the fuck is going on, Bella?"

"Shit!" Bella whispered, wringing her hands as tears formed beneath her lashes. "How could I fuck this up?" she asked herself as she started to sob, her body collapsing into mine as she gasped for air, and fear swelled in my chest.

"Bella? Bella, what's wrong?" Still gripping her shoulders, I shook her body slightly, trying to snap her out of her hysteria.

"Bella! Just tell me, just fucking say it!" I shouted. I couldn't stand this, seeing her like this. I realized something was tearing her apart, festering and rotting beneath the surface. If she could just get it out, just free it from the seclusion of her mind, maybe she could feel good and happy and right again.

"Edward, I'm sick," she blubbered through her sobs. "I can't eat. And when I do eat I throw up. I can't help it anymore, my body is so fucked up now, Edward, and I feel like such an idiot. Do you have any idea how humiliating this is? I mean, fuck, I've done it to myself. It's so fucking embarrassing." Words were just flooding from Bella now, explanations and rationalizations, all incoherent and jumbled with emotion, and it took me a minute to realize what she was saying.

She couldn't eat? I'd seen her eat on numerous occasions. And what did she mean, she throws up? Was this a medical condition or something? I didn't understand.

"You throw up when you eat? What do you mean? I mean, is it a disease? Is this something Carlisle can help with? We can help, Bella. It's one of the advantages of living with a doctor." I pleaded with her, searching her face for answers.

Bella took a few deep breaths, wiped the smeared streams from her cheeks and spoke in a small voice. "No, Edward. When I was fifteen I started making myself throw up after eating. I can't really explain it, but I just felt so awful when I was full, just stuffed and horribly uncomfortable. So I would purge to feel the emptiness again. I was comfortable with the emptiness. And then I got tired of the constant purging, so I just stopped eating altogether. It was just easier that way. I mean, I would eat if I got too faint or weak, but only minimally." Bella paused as I absorbed this information. I dropped my grip on Bella's shoulders, taking a step back as realization started to sink in.

Bella had an eating disorder. She was forcing herself to throw up, on purpose. She was depriving herself of food, on purpose. She was starving herself, and for what reason? Self deprecation? To feel empty?

"Why? Why didn't you tell me?" I asked furiously, pinching my nose and trying to control my anger. I craved the information now. How could she not share this shit with me? I mean, I had told her everything, every fucking bullshit thing my father had done to us, every humiliating fear and pain, even the fact that I dreaded the disease. She knew it all. And here I was, the fucking idiot, foolishly ignorant of my girlfriend's eating habits, eating disorder, ignorant of the pain she must have been suffering in for so long. It wasn't fair, that she should know so much and me so little.

"I wanted to be whole for you, enough. I didn't want you to worry about this. So I was trying to get better on my own. And I am getting better! Edward, you have to realize what you've done for me, how things have changed because of you." Bella pleaded with me, gripping the front of my shirt, her eyes full and dark.

"Bullshit, Bella! Look at you! You're starving yourself and you want me to just let you fix shit on your own, 'Get better for me'? That's a fucking copout." I pulled away from her grasp, knocking her hand out of the way.

"Edward, you have to believe me! I never wanted you to see me like this, weak, a fucking basket case. I hate myself for what I do, what I've done." She grabbed a hold of my sleeve, pulling and twisting it into her fingers, desperately clinging to my arm. I was torn, I wanted to believe her, wanted to accept her excuse, but I feared what the acceptance would bring. More secrets for my own good, so I wouldn't snap, wouldn't overreact? It was so fucking patronizing, the fact that Bella couldn't trust me because she didn't want to hurt me, like I was a fucking child, shielded and guarded from feeling.

My eyes moved from her little hand gripping my sleeve to the thin strained wrist wrapped in cream roses and blue lavender, the elastic on her corsage loose and I followed the length of her spindly arm to her shoulders covered by her black sweater. I slowly removed the black sweater from her shoulders, noticing how I could see the outline of every goddamn bone in her body. How had I not noticed this? I traced the length of her collarbone to her knobby shoulders with my fingers, only lightly touching her fragile frame, my hand resting on the top of her arm. How could she not eat? I was confused by this…this food aversion. Food was such a huge part of my life, I couldn't really understand how someone could purposely withhold from basic nourishment. I mean, eating was like sleeping or breathing. It was necessary to survive.

"Edward…" she whispered, bringing her mouth close to mine.

"Why can't you eat?" I asked quietly, rubbing the top of her arm, her smooth skin tender beneath my fingers.

"I don't know. It all started as something else and now I just can't do it. I don't even get hungry anymore," she responded, her eyes on the ground now.

"So all those time you ate my food, did you throw it up?" I asked, not sure if I wanted to hear the answer but asked anyway, because I couldn't stop myself. I had to know.

Bella hesitated, which is never a good sign, her eyes everywhere but where they should be.

"Fuck, Bella. How many times?" I asked, obsessed with the number and wanting to know every gory fucking detail. I wanted to know how many times, where she did it at, when she did it, anything she could give me I would take.

"You want a fucking number? I don't know, fuck!" Bella paused and I waited, insistent that she answer me. "A lot, okay? I fucking did it a lot, more in the beginning." I started to pull away, disgusted in myself, disgusted with the fact I hadn't noticed this. Bella gripped my arm again, pulling me towards her and wrapping her arms around my waist. "But I don't do it that much anymore. I feel…guilty. I can't explain it, Edward, you just have to trust me."

"Trust you?" I whispered. "Bella, of course I trust you. It's you who can't seem to trust me." Disgust churned in my gut as I uttered the last word because this _was_ my fault. I couldn't even fully trust myself, how the fuck could I expect her to?

"How can we fix this?" I asked, frantic now, pulling her to me and tightening my embrace. "Just tell me what I can do. What can I do to fix this?"

Bella's expression darkened. "I don't want you to fix me Edward! That's not your fucking job. I'm not some head case, weak and broken for you to fix! Fuck! This is exactly why I didn't tell you in the first place, because there's nothing you can do and you'll just end up feeling helpless and sad that you can't fix me." She was pissed now, pulling at her hair and pacing in front of me.

"And why do I need to be fixed? I'm not good enough the way that I am? What, you don't want me if I'm broken? What if I never get better? Huh? What if I decided I like myself like this and I don't want to be better? What would you fucking do then, Edward?" Bella was shouting now, pushing me with each question, her fists punching into my chest and her words dicing through my soul and turning my stomach. What if she didn't change? Would I be able to stand by and watch her destroy herself?

I just didn't know what to think, what to do. It was all so fucking confusing and terrifying. I detested that Bella hadn't shared this with me, but this pain was overridden by the panic for her well-being and fear of the destruction of the normalcy that was us. I hungered for that normalcy, that connection that proved we were okay, that our love was okay. I needed her closer, I needed to touch her, physically feel her love wrapped around every part of me. I needed it now.

I grabbed her wrist and she tried to pull it away, glaring into my eyes, her passion needing an outlet. I held her wrist as she tried again to yank it away and pulled her back into me, grabbing her neck with my other hand and shoving my mouth on hers. I kissed her furiously, pouring all my fears and anger into this kiss, and she kissed me back, her tongue forcing its way into my mouth as her free hand grabbed my hair and yanked hard, the pain gratifying and easing some of that fear.

Releasing her wrist, I grabbed her ass instead, lifting her onto the hood of the car, damp from the fog that had now descended on the town, and pushed her skirt up her bare thighs. I kissed her lips again, intensely and savagely, the swirling of our tongues frantic. She sunk her teeth into my bottom lip, sucking and biting forcefully as I slid my fingers under her lacy panties and into her slick pussy, furiously pumping into her as she groaned into my mouth. Releasing her lips, I moved to lick her cleavage, yanking the blue satin down to expose her breast and causing the already straining thin strap across her shoulder to snap. Bella gasped, pulling my mouth to lick her nipple, and I rolled my tongue around the pink flesh, pulling it into my mouth and nipping with my teeth. I wanted to fuck her, hysterically and fast and messy, I wanted to shove my dick into her slick and saturated pussy over and over again until all she could feel was pleasure and happiness and bliss.

"Edward, fuck me. Please, I need you. I need you to fuck me." Bella wanted it too, the longing in her voice evident and out of control, she was asking for it.

She unbuttoned my pants, a blur of hands and zippers, and grabbed my hard cock, pulsing in her tiny hand, and tugged in frenzied pulls. I grabbed her waist, aching to be inside her, to feel her wrapped around me, the friction throbbing in my mind and fueling my hands to grip the satin stretched across her body. I heard the ripping of fabric, a long tearing of satin, and Bella and I froze. What the fuck had I done?

I investigated the area where my hand had clutched and saw nothing but Bella's milky white skin, a gaping rip running the length of the side of her dress. I fingered the delicate fabric, so frail and soft and beautiful and I had fucking ruined it. I had destroyed it, crushing and ripping it with my own hands.

"It's okay. Alice can fix it," Bella voiced quietly, bringing her mouth to my ear, her hands still massaging my dick, slowly now, and I could hardly handle the feeling of her hands on me like that, not after what I had almost done.

I kissed her neck, slow and unsure, clutching at the exposed skin under the frays of shredded material, the rippling of her rib cage prominent beneath my fingers.

"Please, Edward, don't stop," Bella murmured quietly, sensing my hesitation. "Don't stop loving me, please. I need you. I can't live without you."

I paused, my lips faltering. How could she think that I would stop loving her, that I even had a fucking choice in the matter? I had made my decision long ago that I would be with Bella for as long as I could. None of that had changed with Bella's admission. I would take whatever abuse she had to give, whether it was directed at me or herself. I would absorb it, welcome it even if it destroyed me.

But I refused to destroy her. I had almost done it. God, I had fucking wanted to do it, defile my girl, so lovely and soft. She didn't deserve this. She deserved better than to get fucked in the parking lot of a bowling alley on the hood of a fucking Volvo. What kind of monster does that? What kind of fucking monster am I?

"Edward, it's okay." She kissed my neck, spreading slow sucking kisses along my jaw.

"No. It's not okay, Bella." I pulled away from her. "What am I doing? I could have hurt you, I mean, I ripped your fucking dress. What kind of person does that?" I choked the words out, disgusted with myself, the loathing taking over now. Bella withdrew her hands, pulling up her top and gripping the front of my shirt.

"Edward, you listen to me. Look at my face and you fucking listen to me. You're not going to hurt me. I don't even think that you could. You love me. And I love you. Nothing you could ever do is going to change that. We belong together. We're made for each other." She kissed my tearful eyes, bringing her hands to the sides of my face.

"I mean, come on, what are the chances a chef would unknowingly fall in love with a bulimic?" Bulimic. There's even a word for it. It's real, and my beautiful girl was suffering. She smiled at her own joke that wasn't even remotely funny but reminded me that maybe we could both offer each other something that we had been previously lacking, just like she did for me, I could do it for her too.

And then it was clear in Bella's words, the magnitude of what she was doing to herself. If Bella didn't eat, she _wouldn't _ live. A new emotion swept through me - empathy. I knew how Bella felt. I've known that feeling of wanting to destroy yourself, to give in to every self hatred and just wallow in disgust. I knew what it was like to be ashamed of what you were thinking and feeling, afraid of what every thought might bring with it and who it might destroy in the process. Bella and I truly were cut from the same cloth. And I had to help her, fix her, make her whole again so she could survive, so she wanted to survive.

Maybe Bella didn't want to accept my help with this, but she didn't want to continue doing it either. She had already said she was trying to solve the problem on her own, that I had helped without even knowing it. I couldn't let Bella destroy herself anymore, I couldn't stand by and watch her abuse her body, starving and wasting away. I wouldn't let it happen because I couldn't live in a world without Bella. I had tried - for seventeen years I'd been living in this world without knowing the warmth, the selfless care and love that Bella offered me. And now that I knew that kind of connection existed and that it existed for me, that Bella and I existed for each other, there was not a shot in hell I'd let that go without a fight, and I can handle myself in a fight. This eating disorder didn't have a fucking chance.

…

**A/N**

And now he knows…

Song quote is from The Beatles song "In My Life" and title is Joni, of course, from the song "Lesson in Survival"

I love all things 80's and _Pretty in Pink_ is one of my all time favorite movies but I really do hate Andie's prom dress. I love Duckie though, I always wanted a Duckie.

I'm so anxious to hear your thoughts!! Tell me, tell me!!!


	16. I Want to Make You Feel Free

Darlings,

Thank you beautiful readers, your comments are stellar and our conversations are warming to my fuzzy brain...

And my sweet beta **n7of9**...have I told you lately that I love you???

Disclaimer: I don't own it.

**CH. 16 "**_**I Want to Make You Feel Free"**_

**BPOV**

I was going to tell him, I swore to myself I was. I had made up my mind while Alice was fixing my hair, placing curl upon curl on top of my head, and it just felt so heavy. All of it, the hair on my head, the tulle of my skirt, the shiny fabric tight across my chest, constricting and making it difficult to breathe. I realized this was a metaphor for the way I had been feeling in my own skin and in my interactions with Edward, all pretty and dolled up, but not real. Edward loved me, but he loved the me that he knew, the me that I gave him. He didn't love the real me, and how could he? I was disgusting, what I do is disgusting. He couldn't love the crouched over the toilet, tears streaming down my cheeks while saliva dripped from my fingers and vomit toilet water splattered on my face and hair, self-loathing me. It was a humiliating part of myself that I hadn't ever wanted to share with anyone. Until now. Joni sang through my mind, giving me the strength to make this decision, _"Forgetting fear but never disregarding her..."_

But this is what happens when you fuck with Karma. Tonight wasn't right, it shouldn't have been tonight, and now I had ruined everything.

"Fuck!" I choked on the word as I ran after him, these stupid fucking heels clicking along the pavement and biting into my feet, the sharp pangs cutting and rubbing into my bare skin. I grabbed at his arm, every swipe barely missing by inches, just trying to grasp on to him, to anything, so I could explain, so I could finally make it equal. But I was too slow, my shoes a huge encumbrance and his long legs carrying him away from me much too quickly.

He reached the car a few seconds before I did, driving his fist into the hood, a dent crinkled around his curled hand. I stopped, shocked and paralyzed, the pain distorting his face too much for me to bear. My empty stomach twisted in nausea even though I knew there was nothing to purge. How could I do this to him, cause his beautiful face to twist in such agony? What the fuck was wrong with me?

Edward was still now so I took the opportunity to speak, to grab his attention in the hope that he would listen long enough for me to tell him the truth.

"Edward, I need to explain," I said, barely loud enough for him to hear.

"There's nothing to explain, Bella." The chill in his voice sent goosebumps assaulting my arms and legs, forcing me to take the steps to move closer to him, to stand in the warmth of his shelter.

"Edward, I'm not on drugs. I promise you that. I got those from Jasper months ago. I've never even taken one, not one. Count them. I swear to you, I'm not taking drugs." I really hadn't touched the pills. I had completely forgotten they were even in my bag until they were staring Edward right in the face, a little plastic bag of deceit.

He asked the question that would bring about the confession. "Why do you have them if you don't use them?" Confusion spread across his face as he continued his questioning. "Why would you carry them around in your bag?"

My heart began to pound, knowing that what I was about to say could very well disgust him, drive him away, make him leave me. It was something I simply couldn't live with - without my soul, without my shelter, I am nothing. I was so fucking scared he would leave, the fear pumping through my veins and catching in my throat, but I tried to find a way to say this.

"Um...I have this thing...with food and they take away my appetite." Fuck! This was not coming out right, the words sounding pathetic and useless. I continued to try to explain. "I forgot they were in there, I swear. And I didn't tell you because I know how you worry and I was trying to take care of it myself." I couldn't control the words flooding from my mouth anymore, nothing but excuses, my pattern of self preservation binding me to my bullshit. Tears of frustration streamed down my cheeks and curses slipped from my lips because I knew this wasn't good enough, that I wasn't good enough, that maybe I never would be. I couldn't feel my fingers, my entire body numb from the frigid fog that had rolled into the town while we were inside, a damp mist floating about the air sticking to my face and hair.

Suddenly, Edward was gripping my shoulders and I was falling apart, desperate for his touch, for our connection, a little hint that we were still okay, that we'd be okay, but his fingers were rough and frantic and I crumbled at the realization that I had totally fucked up here. I had possibly destroyed the one thing that I was actually good at, the one thing in my life that allowed me to feel valuable and needed and normal. I collapsed onto him, his profuse scent invading my head and swirling, and I inhaled him in great gasps, trying to breath but just fucking sobbing, my emotions a runaway train intent on crushing everything in its path.

Edward was yelling now, "Just fucking say it!" and I did. I told him everything, every humiliating speck of information, I gave it to him. I told him how I couldn't eat and how I'd purge when I did. I told him how it started and how I had gotten to this point and that now I wanted to get better, be better because of him, because of his care and selfless nurturing. Edward made me want to be whole again, to really live, not just exist. He was pushing me away and I was begging, pleading for him to believe me, clutching at his clothing in an attempt to hold onto him, the shirt a tangible article I could wrap my fingers around.

Then, when I felt so sure I was going to break, when hysteria seemed imminent, he slipped my sweater from my shoulders to trace the bones of my collar and shoulders with soft, passive fingers, and I felt it. I recognized the touch, our connection, and that tiny hint of reassurance was what I needed to continue. I whispered his name, longing to feel him pressed against my lips, my eyes on his mouth as his talked, his tongue moving between the most perfectly even white teeth. I wanted to feel his mouth on me and his sharp teeth nipping at my skin, and I found myself breathless thinking about his beautiful fucking teeth.

"Why can't you eat?" Edward asked, his touch on my shoulders, gentle hands smoothing over my skin.

"I don't know." Because I hate myself, because I don't deserve it, because I'm completely fucked up. "It all started as something else and now I just can't do it. I don't even get hungry anymore."

"So all those times you ate my food, did you throw it up?" Edward asked. Silence hung in the air. I couldn't find my voice, petrified to answer. Heat burned in my face and ears and I struggled to answer. Fuck! The way he had said it sounded so awful, my food, my gift, my offering, an extension of himself, and I had just thrown it away, flushed it down the toilet. It was so ungrateful, a fucking slap in the face.

"Fuck, Bella. How many times?" he persisted. The disappointment in his voice caused a new wave of guilt and nausea to twist through my body.

"You want a fucking number? I don't know, fuck!" I couldn't answer him because I didn't know. How many days has he been bringing me lunch now? Too many to count. And how many times had I visited the school day-smoking restroom? I couldn't think, the facts muddled into incoherency. What if I did give him a number, what would he do? What would he think of me then? My brain pounded with frantic remorse, a tide of contrite panic tumbling through my very soul.

"A lot, okay? I fucking did it a lot. More in the beginning." Edward moved away from me and the panic began to build again, causing me to reach out and pull him back to me, attaching my arms around his waist in a weak attempt to prevent him from walking away, from leaving me.

"But I don't do it that much anymore. I feel…guilty. I can't explain it, Edward, you just have to trust me." I was begging, trying to offer him anything that he would be able to find redeemable, and I almost scoffed at myself for asking him to trust me, like I deserved such a privilege. My stomach churned with shame, disgusted in my arrogance in even asking for this.

"Trust you?" His whispered voice tore at my heart, the quiet so vulnerable and frail. "Bella, of course I trust you. It's you who can't seem to trust me." Trust was a hard thing for me. Everyone I'd ever trusted had let me down, crushed me and left me to wither away to nothing. _"I never loved a man I trusted..."_

Suddenly, Edward pulled me to him, his arms pulled tight around me and literally knocking the wind out of me. But his words were the final blow, affirmation of everything I had been dreading.

"What can I do to fix this?"

No, no, no! Fix this? Fuck! The words radiated in my head, _fix this_. Fix _me_. "I don't want you to fix me Edward! That's not your fucking job. I'm not some head case, weak and broken for you to fix! Fuck!" I shouted, pulling away, my mind frantic and clouded.

If I knew how to fix it I would have done it long ago. I should have known this was how he would react because Edward is a fixer. He's a nurturer, a provider, constantly giving and sacrificing and soon he might realize that it was all for nothing. Oh fuck! I am a horrible person. I tricked him into loving this version of me, what he thought was me and now I was going to hurt him.

"This is exactly why I didn't tell you in the first place, because there's nothing you can do and you'll just end up feeling helpless and sad that you can't fix me." What if I can't be fixed? What if it never goes away? What if he goes away? What if it kills me? What if that kills him? Would I blame him? Could I blame him? I paced in front of him, pulling at my hair, feeling satisfaction in the small stings.

But he needed to know. He needed to know that it was a possibility that I might never get better, that I might never _be_ better. I had to ask him. I had to see what he would say when faced with the possibility, my insatiable curiosity gnawing at my eroded insides.

"And why do I need to be fixed? I'm not good enough the way that I am?" I was close to his face now, judging every facial hiccup, every flinch in his eyes, every twitch in his beautiful mouth. I'm not good enough for him. I never will be.

"What, you don't want me if I'm broken? What if I never get better? Huh? What if I decided I like myself like this and I don't want to be better? What would you fucking do then, Edward?" He'd leave. Of course he wouldn't want me broken and why should I expect him to? Why should I expect anyone to want me? What could I even offer him? Disgusted with myself, I pounded my fists into his chest with each question, the muscles of his torso flexed and strained against my assault.

With my last strike, Edward grabbed my wrist and I yanked it back instinctively, surprised and hostile when he didn't let go. I glared at him, accepting the challenge, and tried again to pull my arm free from his grip, and in one fluid movement his mouth was on mine, hard and furious and fucking glorious. I forced my tongue into his mouth, nipping hungrily at his bottom lip with my teeth and thrusting my hand to clutch at his bronze curls, pulling at his hair and desperately trying to ease every fear and every pain with this connection.

Edward lifted me onto the hood of his car, the cold sheet metal sharp against my bare skin, and I was frantic to feel him against me. His hands pushed my skirt above my thighs and I couldn't breathe, his mouth making me hungry to taste him again. Deep desire and pulsing and throbbing between my legs intensified as he brought his mouth to mine again, and then his fingers were inside me and I felt such gratification in the bond, his fingers thrusting and twisting, and I fucking needed him inside me, the physical manifestation of his acceptance, proof that he would never leave. Proof that he wanted me, even though I was a broken piece of shit.

His hand pulled at my dress, the tiny strap snapping in satisfaction as he roughly yanked down my clothing. His mouth on my breast, he licked and nipped with his teeth on the sensitive pink flesh, forcing the throbbing around his fingers to become unbearable. I needed him to fuck me now. I wanted him to fuck me and I told him so.

Impatiently, I unbuttoned his pants and grabbed his dick in desperate tugs, feeling his hardness warm and ready in my hands as Edward clutched at the dress around my waist. The material already tight and strained, I felt the sweet relief as the seam burst along my side. I could breathe, finally, as we froze, shocked at the gaping material.

Edward brought his face close to my side, touching the fabric, his fingers lightly grazing the exposed skin. His fingers on my side reminded me of my need, the craving still pulsating from within, and I urged him to continue.

He kissed my neck, faltering, his mind still consumed with the ripped dress, his fingers digging into the now exposed skin of my torso. Again I begged, asking for more, asking for everything, but he was lost in his head now, consumed with guilt, his loss of control something he didn't handle well.

"Edward, it's okay." I kissed his neck and jaw, trying to reassure him that I wasn't afraid, that I wanted this too, that I needed it now.

"No. It's not okay, Bella. What am I doing? I could have hurt you, I mean, I ripped your fucking dress. What kind of person does that?" Edward had tears in his eyes now and just as I suspected, the guilt was eating at him even though there was no reason for it. I never felt endangered when I was with him and I never feared the bomb. I have only ever felt safe and loved and wanted. How could he think he could be anything else? How could a soul capable of such selflessness, such unconditional love, even house the darkness that Edward feared? I wished I had done things differently, that I hadn't been a coward, that I would have had confidence in the fact that Edward could handle this shit. Because he was handling it pretty fucking well and I had underestimated him. I had doubted him, doubted his love, his commitment, his control. The worst part was that I was sure he had already figured this out and it just made me feel more like shit.

I found myself frustrated and angry that I hadn't conveyed this earlier, that I hadn't been able to stifle his fears, my own self-doubt and fears barring me from fully noticing his. The similarities between Edward and I, our insecurities, our worries, our pain, even our love ran in parallel lines, prohibiting us from truly intersecting. What we needed was a curve or an angle, anything to converge at a single point, a point where we could truly love each other and accept that we could be loved in return. Something had to give and it was my turn to try my hand at selflessness. _"Pleasure moves on too early, and trouble leaves too slow..."_

I grabbed his shirt and, trying to muster all my conviction, spoke the words he needed to hear. "Edward, you listen to me. Look at my face and you fucking listen to me. You're not going to hurt me. I don't even think that you could. You love me. And I love you. Nothing you ever do is going to change that. We belong together. We're made for each other." And it was true. I knew this wouldn't be the last time I'd have to remind him of this, but I'd tell him this every day for eternity if that's what it took. Every day I spent with Edward I was reminded that I had a match in this world, and it still shocked me to all hell when I'd discover the little nuances of our personalities that fit so perfectly with each other. This…problem, this eating disorder, it was just the pull of the universe, Karma shaking her finger at me. The fact that food was my enemy and Edward lived for it was pretty fucking ironic.

I kissed Edward's eyelids and held his face in my hands, determined to see contentment in his features. "I mean, come on, what are the chances a chef would unknowingly fall in love with a bulimic?" I said, trying to restore the normal, easy exchanges between Edward and I, but his face was laden with emotion, introspective and pensive as he digested my words.

Bulimic, a label for what I was, a label that brought with it certain characteristics and connotations that stupid people who don't know shit about this, this…sickness, make up. I would adopt them all, shallow, self-centered, vain, all the fucked up shit people associate with eating disorders, I would accept them all if it meant that I could be rid of it.

...

**EPOV**

"Alice knows. Alice knows everything," Bella muttered. I flinched at her words, the betrayal biting. She was anticipating a bad reaction, her body tense and stiff as she said the words. Before I could react further she pleaded, "Please don't be mad at her. Please! I made her promise. A promise between friends, that's all it was, like the Jasper thing. Please Edward? I couldn't live with myself if I knew you were upset with her because of me." But I couldn't react anymore, my mind pressing on other, more important issues. I just nodded, looking into the darkness behind the building.

"But she's the only one, and my mom…and an old friend I had in Phoenix. But that's it," she said quietly.

Bella shivered again and I removed my jacket and placed it around her shoulders, the strap of her dress ripped and the entire side of it torn to shreds. I quickly buttoned and zipped my pants, leaving my shirt untucked, as Bella buttoned her sweater and then pulled the jacket closed, her lacerated dress practically falling off of her. Her face was a mess, black smeared underneath her red, puffy eyes, her hair sticking out on account of her angry tugs. I tried to smooth the damp, stray tangles and she suddenly wrapped her arms around my waist tightly, so tight it was almost uncomfortable.

"I'm so, so sorry Edward. For everything, just everything." I felt Bella crumble around me, her soft body shaking and clutching at my back, and I couldn't fucking stand to see her hurting anymore. She was fucking tearing herself up over this. It didn't really fucking matter, any of it, not in comparison to Bella starving herself. I couldn't even find it within myself to hate Jasper for giving her the pills. My mind was populated and engrossed with questions and plans, fucking theory upon theory about how we were going to fix this, but I needed to do some research first. I needed to talk to Carlisle.

I kissed the top of Bella's head, dreading the fact that I was going to have to go back into that bowling alley and get Alice and Jasper, even though I was sure they had some inkling as to what this whole fucking disaster was about. I opened the car door to help Bella inside, but she didn't budge. She was still trembling and I tried to pull away, but her arms tightened around my waist.

"No!" Bella's voice was tainted with panic as she refused to let me go.

I sighed, "Get in the car Bella. I'm only going to get Alice and Jasper." I tried again to help her into the car but she shook her head and continued to clutch at my middle.

"I'll go with you," Bella mumbled into my chest. I nodded in agreement and we walked towards the bowling alley, Bella continuing to shiver and her teeth now chattering, as I rubbed her arm furiously, hoping the friction would warm her up.

We walked into the building with Bella still fused to my side to find Alice and Jasper seated at one of the lanes by the door. They both stood up as we walked in, Alice's apprehensive eyes flitting furiously between me and Bella. Jasper wouldn't fucking look at us, his hands in his pockets, looking like he wanted to fucking disappear and I couldn't really blame him. I didn't say anything, just motioned it was time to leave and they got the hint. They walked in front of us, Alice glancing back a couple times, trying to figure out what had transpired. As we approached the Volvo, Alice touched the dented hood, her face turning sharply to look at me, questioning and worried. I remained silent, not knowing if I had the mental clarity to speak to her or Jasper yet. I was still trapped in my thoughts and plans, still perplexed as to how I was going to help Bella get better.

I pulled onto the highway, the heater blasting and the inside of the car heavy with tension. Bella was curled up in the front seat gazing out the window, her arms folded around her, holding herself together. She wiped at her cheek with the back of her hand and I knew she was crying, residual tears of contemplation. I reached over to lightly touch her cheek, trying to let her know it was going to be okay. She turned her face to me, slightly smiling, trying to disguise the fear and pain and remorse swirling in her dark pupils.

After about ten minutes of silence my sister had had enough. She sighed loudly, shifting in her seat. I looked in my rearview mirror, her impatient green eyes piercing back at me. And then she spoke.

"Okay, I'm not one for guessing games so let's just get it all out there. The fucking tension is killing me," Alice said, matter-of-factly. I looked over at Bella and she met my gaze with reassurance. She turned towards the back of the car to look at Alice and Jasper.

"He knows, about everything. The pills, the puking, everything," Bella said quietly. She brought her hand to her cheek again, wiping at the slow tears trailing down her face. Jasper looked at me now, cautious and hesitant to speak.

"And? What the fuck happened? Why is there a dent in the hood of your car Edward?" Alice was worried, the stress evident in her tone.

"It's okay, Alice. I lost my temper, but it's fine. I'm okay." I tried to reassure her, looking at her in the rearview mirror again.

"You lost your temper? You dented the hood of your car, Edward! Your temper was a little more than just lost," Alice challenged, her intention to resolve this issue forcing her to press.

"Alright, I freaked out for a minute. Don't you think that was an acceptable reaction? I mean, shit, it's a lot to digest in one night!" I exclaimed, slightly exasperated at her prying. "Fuck, don't you think it's shit that you all knew and I didn't?"

"I didn't know Edward, not until now. Alice told me while you guys were outside," Jasper said suddenly. "I swear. I wouldn't have given her the pills if I would have known, man. I feel like shit, dude, like a total skease." I nodded my head in acceptance. This was enlightening and somewhat satisfying, knowing that I wasn't the only one who didn't know. It made it less of a secret from me and more of a secret from everyone. I still didn't like being lumped in the category of everyone, but it was a start.

"Edward, I didn't tell because, well, Bella's like my sister and I wasn't going to nark on my sister," Alice said quietly.

Bella had turned to face the front again, her gaze fixated on the dials of the dashboard. This couldn't be easy for her, having us all talk about it, about her, like she wasn't sitting right there, listening, feeling every sting, every comment. I reached over to take her hand in mine, offering her my touch in reassurance. She gripped my hand tightly, tears still occasionally rolling down her cheeks, her eyes still on the dash.

I sighed. This was starting to wear on me, the apologies, the excuses, the heartfelt declarations of sisterhood. What had been done was done and I wanted to move forward. I wanted to get home and talk to Carlisle, figure out how bad this shit, this anorexia and bulimia, actually is.

"I told you guys, it's okay. I'm not angry with you guys. Or you," I said softly to Bella, her teary eyes overflowing with fresh tears again. "It's going to be okay," I said just to her, staring into her soul and trying to absorb some of the pain that was lingering there. She inhaled deeply, trying to stifle the sobs, and brought our intertwined hands to her lips, gently kissing the back of my hand.

We were silent after that, each of us contemplative and deliberating the evening's events. The sundaes forgotten, I dropped Jasper off first, Alice getting out of the car with him.

"I'll be home later," Alice said to me, closing the door quietly as she left.

When we got to Bella's house I walked her up to her door.

"Do you want to stay for a while?" she asked me, her eyes tired and drained. I wanted to. I wanted to wrap around her and just lay down and sleep, perfectly entwined and warm and comfortable. But I had work to do.

"Not tonight, Bella. I need to go home." I pulled her to me and kissing her tenderly, placing a slow and gentle declaration upon her lips.

She nodded as she pressed her forehead to mine and whispered, "I understand."

I hugged her tightly, my face burrowed into the white of her neck as I deeply breathed in her lovely scent. "I love you, Bella, so much. Please, promise me you'll take care of yourself, please? If something were to happen…if you were to…" I couldn't finish my thoughts. I was afraid to let her go. Having no knowledge of these diseases, I didn't know what to expect, and I was afraid to have her out of my sight, afraid of what she might do in my absence.

"I promise I'll try," Bella whispered, her soft body frail beneath my arms.

"It's not the same thing," I whispered back, pulling her impossibly closer as my chest swelled, the pressure building and overwhelming as I fucking willed and pleaded internally for her to agree.

"I know," she sobbed, and I cursed myself for making her cry again, for causing her to feel guilt over something which sounded like she couldn't even really control.

"It's okay," I said softly, rubbing her back, my fingers getting caught in her curls. "It's okay, trying is enough." I kissed her forehead, the skin soft against my lips.

Bella nodded, taking a few deep breaths and wiping her face with her hand. "Please believe that I love you Edward, and I truly am sorry for all this." She spoke in quiet whispers, her tired voice hoarse and broken.

"Of course I believe you. I'll call you in the morning, okay?" I kissed her lips again and stood with her as she unlocked the front door and disappeared into the house.

I drove home quickly, anxious to get to Carlisle, anxious to find a solution, anxious as to what I would find out. Really, I was just fucking downright anxious.

I flew into the house, running up the stairs and straight to Carlisle's office. Finding it empty, I checked his bedroom. The door was closed so I knocked, loud and continuous. This couldn't fucking wait until tomorrow, I had to talk to him now.

"Carlisle?" I shouted. "I need your help!" I knocked again. "Carli-" He opened the door, his eyes still heavy from sleep.

"Carlisle, I need to talk to you," I said in a rush, walking to the office and motioning for him to follow. He did, shuffling down the hall in his pajamas, and I realized I hadn't even checked to see what time it was or if my barging in and disturbing his sleep like this was inappropriate.

I walked into his office, pacing in front of his desk while he flipped on the light switch and walked around to sit at his desk. He rubbed his eyes, adjusting to the light, and stared at me for a moment, waiting for me to begin, I suppose.

I didn't know where to start. I just kept pacing, trying to gather my thoughts and figure out exactly how to say this.

"Edward, what's going on?" Carlisle finally asked, his voice stopping me in my tracks.

I sat down in the leather chair, running my hands through my hair and then resting my elbows on my legs, folding my hands between them.

"What do you know about eating disorders?" I finally asked.

"Ah. I was wondering when we would have this conversation." Carlisle folded his hands on his desk.

"You knew?" I asked, confused. What the fuck? "How did you know? Did Alice tell you? Did Bella?"

"I suspected. I'm a doctor. It's my job to notice things like this," he answered quietly.

"Why didn't you say anything?" I pinched the bridge of my nose, my head starting to pound with frustration.

"Would you have listened? I tried to talk to Charlie, he reacted defensively and denied it, claiming he'd know if his daughter had an eating disorder. This was expected. I expected the same from you." I tried to imagine the scenario, Carlisle coming to me and telling me that Bella had a problem eating.

I wanted to deny it, prove him wrong, but I couldn't say for sure I wouldn't have argued. I mean, yeah, she's fucking skinny but I had seen Bella eat lunch dozens of times. I never noticed anything strange, just the mints…the mints! The fucking mints. That's why she was so weird about me asking about them, why she always had them. They were her cover.

"Fuck! Carlisle, how could I have been so blind, so delusional?" I wouldn't have listened to him. I have been so foolishly focused on myself, first on suppressing the bomb and controlling myself and then so submerged and consumed by Bella's love that I had neglected to focus on Bella herself. I had neglected to see how incredibly fragile she is, how thin and malnourished she looks. Sure, I had noticed her prominent bones and her thin figure, but I hadn't really _seen_ them until tonight, until she had said the words.

"Edward, people suffering from eating disorders are highly secretive about their disease because there's a lot of guilt and shame involved. I'm assuming Bella is suffering from anorexia nervosa. Any bulimia?" Carlisle was in clinical mode, the doctor questioning the patient, only I wasn't the one he should be questioning this time.

"What's the difference? She pukes when she eats but she got tired of puking so she just started not eating. She said she can't really even control it, like it's taken over or something. She said she was getting better, that she would try to get better," I told him, hoping that if he understood, if he knew every detail, he'd know just what to do, like there was some fucked up flow chart for getting rid of eating disorders. "What exactly does this all mean? I'm so clueless when it comes to this shit." I felt so lost, shrouded in darkness, just stumbling and bumbling around looking for the damn light switch.

"They are complex diseases. They stem from complex psychological and biological causes and are real illnesses, Edward, with real symptoms." Carlisle paused, apprehensive to continue.

"What symptoms? Just tell me, please? I need to know what the hell I'm up against," I pleaded, needing the facts, the reality of what Bella was doing to herself.

Carlisle rambled off a laundry list of symptoms, ranging from yellowing skin and decaying tooth enamel to kidney disorders and gastroesophageal reflux, but something Carlisle said captured my awareness, stifling my breathing and causing my stomach to burn with terror.

Heart failure.

The thought of Bella's straining heart, a heart whose beat I yearned for, where I found solace and peace, her very life force failing forced the air from my lungs and caused my vision to blur. I knew what the very blackest of consequences would be. I squeezed my eyes shut trying to block it out but I couldn't stop the vision from appearing in my mind. Bella, still and lifeless, her skin white and no longer flush with pink and her full lips tainted blue.

Hollow, failed, gone.

"Carlisle, how do we help her? I mean, can it be helped?" I choked out, cutting him off mid-sentence and frantically searching his face, looking for a hint of hope or something, anything that would tell me that I could make Bella healthy. I clutched at my chest, the pain fuming in my heart, and I felt the tick, tick, tick of a once silenced threat. Stone cold Bella still brimmed in my head and behind my eyes each time they closed, but I found assurance at least in knowing this explosion detonated by Bella's failed heart would also bring the end of me.

"Of course her disease can be treated, Edward. From a physician's stand point, I could recommend many kinds of treatments. But you are not the patient, Edward. You are family, like a son to me, so I am going to give you advice from a father's point of view." Carlisle rose and moved to sit beside me in the other leather chair.

"You can be the nurturing and caring person that I know you already are, and you can show her love and care and friendship. Be honest with her and tell her how you feel, allowing her the freedom to be honest back. Share with her your love of cooking and teach her about nutrition. Meet her setbacks with concern rather than judgment so that she will feel comfortable sharing them with you rather than wallowing in secrecy."

"This is what _you _can do, Edward. Bella needs to do the rest herself and it's futile to force her into it. Please, believe me when I say that she has to be ready and willing to deal with this. You can't be willing enough for the both of you."

I nodded, letting Carlisle's words sink in and contemplating if Bella was ready and willing to deal with this. I was already committed, orbiting this fucked up universe we were stuck in with her at my side, and I would offer her all of me, letting go of myself and allowing her to pull me into her core. I would give it all to her, even if all we were left with was a fucking black hole.

"If you need anything or if Bella wants to talk to a doctor, please let me know. I'm here for you Edward, as your family first." He placed his hand upon my shoulder, squeezing gently.

"Thank you, Carlisle. I'm sorry I had to wake you," I mumbled, not feeling as confident as I would have liked, but resolved in the prospect that I could help Bella - failure was not an option.

But there was one more thing I needed to know and attempting to sleep while this question festered in my brain would be futile. I left the office and walked down the stairs, taking a seat in one of the paisley upholstered chairs in the entryway to wait.

I sat in the dark, stone and still as a marble statue, until I heard the key in the door and saw the small, spiky-haired silhouette in the door frame.

The door clicked shut and she turned around, gasping and clutching her chest. "Edward?" she breathed, her small body trembling from fright. "What the fuck are you doing? You scared the shit out of me!"

"Alice, I need you to get your cards."

"I can't, Edward," Alice said quietly. "They're not properly seasoned."

"Then get your old deck," I countered, my voice low and demanding. I was too fucking tired to argue with her about this shit.

"Now? It's like, two in the morning. I'll do it tomorrow, I promise." Alice started to walk upstairs.

"No! Alice, fuck!" I shouted, causing Alice to stop. "It has to be now. Please, Alice. _Please_?"

She was silent, her eyes staring into the darkness of the hallway. "I thought you didn't believe in any of this shit." Alice's voice trembled with an uncertainty I'd rarely heard.

"Please, Alice," I whispered, desperate.

She sighed and pulled the silk bundle out of her small black beaded purse. "Alright, but I'm only pulling three cards."

"That's fine," I said, as Alice walked into the living room and turned on the light. She sat on the couch, spreading the silk material onto the table. After shuffling the cards she spread them onto the scarf and raked through them with her fingers, mixing and turning, and then pushing them into an orderly stack. She held the cards in her hand, motioning for me to sit down and I obeyed, taking a seat on the couch next to her.

She sighed, her little hands trembling as she gripped the deck. "Are you going to ask a question?"

"You know what I want to know, Alice," I muttered, smoothing my hair with my fingers.

"Yeah, I guess I do. Okay, this first card represents the past." Alice flipped a card and placed it carefully on the silk scarf and I heard her sigh in relief. "The ten of wands. You've taken all the blame, shouldered this burden. Edward, it hasn't been easy."

Truth ringing in her every word, I thought of how fucking difficult everything was. It truly did seem that the odds were stacked against me. Why couldn't I fucking get a break here?

Alice continued, placing the second card next to the first. She muttered something under her breath then inhaled sharply as she placed the card on the scarf. "Temperance. This card shows us the present, what we have and what we need right now. Healing, she's healing, Edward, and we need to combine our forces. We need to come together to help her."

"I know, Alice. I've already talked to Carlisle," I told her. Alice nodded, taking a deep breath.

"The future, Edward. This card represents the future." Alice closed her eyes and placed the card on the silk before looking at it. She opened her eyes slowly, a look of confusion in her creased forehead. "Eight of cups…umm, it's some kind of journey of discovery, finding the facts. Could be going on a trip or walking away, tired, giving up. Or it could be releasing from a cycle, disentangling yourself from a pattern and focusing on what's important. I don't know, Edward. I don't know what it means."

I nodded, the cards ambiguously taunting me with their dual meaning. The cards hadn't told me shit that I didn't already know. I don't really know what I was expecting and my desperation for answers was making me look like a damn fool. I wasn't going to wait around and see which future was going to happen. The future isn't set in stone. It can change and I would change it.

I said goodnight to Alice, leaving her mulling over the cards, and I walked the stairs to my room. Exhausted but reeling with ideas, I fell onto my bed, not even taking the time to change. As I lay in bed, trying to force the cards from my brain, I began to calculate and devise my new plan, a plan for a changed future.

Plan Make Bella Well.

…

**BPOV**

I pulled the toasted bread out of the oven and used a brush to coat the crouton with the garlic and olive oil mixture Edward had given me. Edward was finishing up his wild mushroom reduction on the stovetop, moving out of my way as I utilized the oven. The beef tenderloin, seared and covered in rosemary and thyme, was resting on the counter waiting to be carved. Edward frantically whisked the mushroom mixture in the skillet, wiping his brow with a towel and reducing the heat of the burner. I was responsible for the bruschetta, the chopped tomatoes and onions marinating in garlic, olive oil and basil for the last hour.

"It's best if you spoon it on while the bread is still warm," Edward said to me, a small smile on his lips. He had concocted a full five course meal for the graduation party and since Rosalie and Jasper had gone to school with Emmett since kindergarten, it was only fitting to have a joint dinner party. He'd been planning for a month, trying out various recipes, reading magazines and website after website before deciding on bruschetta, Caesar salad, seared beef tenderloin with asparagus and a wild mushroom reduction, which I learned is just a fancy way of saying sauce, wild mushroom risotto, which is just a fancy way of saying rice, and strawberry cheesecake for dessert.

This dinner party was kind of a big deal. First of all, it's not every day the only son of the town's chief surgeon graduates from high school. Graduation was on Saturday and Emmett would be leaving for college in September. Even though he had elected to live on campus, he had decided to stay close, enrolling at Washington State University. Rosalie had decided to go with him and she would be living in an apartment that her dad had leased for her. Mr. and Mrs. Hale, who were apparently prominent figures of Forks' high society, would be gracing us with their presence this evening.

Charlie was going to eat with us as well. He'd been doing really well with his diet, from what I could tell, and this was kind of like his reward. I mean, I didn't follow him around or anything, but I'd been cooking Edward's meals for him and I even saw him in his bedroom doing some of the exercises Edward had taught him one night.

In seeing Charlie make these attempts, I had made an attempt to eat dinner with him every night. I'm not going to say that I hadn't purged since my promise to Edward, because that wouldn't be true, but I was trying.

It was easier when I was with Edward, focused on our conversations during lazy evenings spent intertwined on my bed. We'd listen to music, or rather, have music playing in the background while we explored each other, hands and mouths and naked feet, quiet love under my comforter and just euphoric and completely whole in our interactions. It was on those late nights, after Edward had left and I was alone with my thoughts and submerged in my insecurities and fears that the compulsion crept back into me. _"The bed's too big, the frying pan's too wide…"_

I hardly ever purged at school anymore, but then again I rarely ate an entire meal. Sometimes I would eat small amounts of the lunch that Edward would bring for me, appeasing the promise, and only when I actually felt the pangs of hunger twist in my belly would I eat a full meal. Sometimes I would eat nothing at all, enduring smug looks from Rosalie as I sat, empty and void, while the others filled themselves. I knew that Edward hadn't told Emmett or Rosalie about my problem, but I couldn't be sure how much they really knew. Sometimes, the way Rosalie looked at me, I could have sworn she knew everything.

Edward had been really good about letting me try to find a way to get better on my own. He knew an awful lot about food and, even more surprisingly, he sounded knowledgeable about eating disorders. I'm sure this had something to do with the fact he lived with a doctor, but it was a little intimidating. At first, he would randomly quote all these statistics, shit from websites he'd visited, I'm sure, because I'd also visited all the same sites. When I didn't respond to this, he started talking to me about nutrition, how many calories a body needs to sustain normal function, which foods provide the best fuel. I was actually pretty interested in this, the chemical and physiological aspects of it all, but then I caught him counting my calories. He was writing everything I ate into a spiral notebook and I just felt so violated, so discounted. I threw a fit, telling him that he was treating me like a child and that he should have talked to me first and that this was a violation of his confidence in me. He hadn't done it since, but I know he's an excellent mathematician and could just be keeping track in his head.

Now, he let me eat when I wanted to and didn't scoff or whine when I didn't. Even though he was scared and unsure, Edward never faltered. I found great peace in him knowing the whole me and in knowing that he wanted to love the whole me. It was a freedom that I hadn't expected to affect me so deeply, a freedom that allowed me to feel hope. A hope that burned in Edward's eyes as well, every time he held my hand at lunch when he knew the compulsion was pulling at me or when he stayed with me until I fell asleep at night, because he knew how hard it was to resist when he was gone. Every time he allowed me to act like an emotional infant, kissing my head and telling me how beautiful I was, despite the ugliness in my self-loathing attitude, I felt his hope for me, for us. Wrapped in this hope, we were happy, free from our binding secrets and able to love each other as equals, pure and soothing to each other's insecurities.

Food was becoming less and less the defining factor of my day, but it was still very much in the forefront of my brain. Tonight, it was everything. I'd been helping Edward prepare dinner all day, boiling and broiling, chopping and carving, the preparations almost as extensive as the cooking of the meal. Edward's talent for flavors was unparalleled, and it also wasn't so bad watching him taste everything, his little pinky dipping into every sauce and then into his mouth, tasting, evaluating and calculating, his fucking black apron wrapped around his body. Watching his finger disappear into his mouth, in that fucking apron nonetheless, made my stomach growl, hungry to feel his lips on my skin.

I had dressed the large dining room table, going with a very classic black and white theme, typical of graduation. The guests were all gathered in the front living room now and I spread the toasted bread onto the serving platter, spooning the tomato mixture onto each slice. Edward scooped the risotto into a large dish and covered it with a lid. He began sharpening his carving knife, the beef tenderloin on the cutting board in front of him.

"You know I'm not going to eat that, right?" I said, preparing him so he wasn't surprised at dinner.

"I know, everyone thinks you're a vegetarian," he said, his knife swiftly carving the meat into even, thin slices and placing them onto a large dish.

"I _am_ a vegetarian. I haven't eaten meat in over two years," I countered, taking the mushroom sauce and pouring it over the slightly pink slices.

"You can eat the risotto. There's no meat in that," Edward said, getting the salad from the fridge and shaking the glass bottle of homemade dressing. "But this does. Anchovies." He shook the dressing at me as I wrinkled my nose, carrying the platter of bruschetta and salad into the dining room, placing them on the table.

"Do you guys need help?" Alice's harmonious voice chimed behind me. I turned to face her and shock immediately invaded my face. She looked so...normal. She was wearing a simple black dress, her legs covered in nylon, and black Mary Jane heels. Her hair was combed to the side and her face glowed with a light dusting of makeup. I hardly recognized her.

"Shut up," she said, responding to the look on my face.

"What? I didn't say anything," I laughed.

"I know, but you were going to. Please tell me you need help. If I have to hear his mother tell one more story about her fucking lap dog, I'm going to kill her. Like, there will be blood and I will probably go to prison," Alice said, following me into the kitchen.

"Wait. Are you going to kill his mom or the dog? Or both?" I asked her, a look of feigned contemplation upon my face.

"Who are we killing?" Edward asked, placing the rest of the mushroom sauce in a small gray boat. Alice giggled, taking the Risotto into the dining room and I followed with two bottles of wine and serving utensils. Edward carried in the tenderloin and placed it onto the table.

"Okay, that's it. Alice, go tell them to come eat," Edward said, taking off his black apron and tossing it onto his chair, revealing a white button-up shirt over dark, worn jeans. How he managed to keep his shirt so clean and crisp while cooking was a mystery. I always ended up a mess after cooking, my clothing stained and splattered and this time I had managed to get a good rip in there somehow. Luckily, I had brought a change of clothes, jeans and a black velvet tank top I had recently found in one of mine and Alice's thrift store shopping extravaganzas.

Alice scowled. "Why don't you go tell them? You're the cook, remember? Isn't that, like, cooking etiquette or something? I think I saw that on Top Chef last night."

"Hey, they're your future in-laws. Don't you want to bond with them?" Edward said, placing a spoon into the risotto and a serving fork by the beef.

"No! I can hardly stand them. They make my skin crawl." Alice shuddered and then sighed. "Alright! Fine. I'll do it, but only because you made cheesecake." She began to slowly drag her feet out of the room.

"Oh! Alice, is Charlie here yet?" I asked. He would be coming from work and I knew that this sometimes made him unavoidably late.

"Not yet. It's barely six though. The Hales are early." She rolled her eyes as if their punctuality had offended her personally and left the room to go inform the guests.

Edward was standing behind me and as soon as Alice disappeared, he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me back into him, his hands moving over my shirt and groping my chest, and his lips on my neck, decorating the skin with slow and sensual adorations.

"Edward, they'll be in here any minute," I said breathlessly, lifting my hand behind me to tangle through his hair.

"I've been wanting to do this all fucking day," he licked my neck, slow and sensual, still massaging my breasts. I melted into him, pushing my backside into his groin as one hand moved to clutch my hip.

"Oh my fucking God, are you kidding me?" a voice muttered, stopping at the sight of Edward's squeezing and fondling hands.

Rosalie had walked into the room, disgusted and beautiful as always. Edward quickly dropped his hands. Startled and completely fucking embarrassed, I covered my face with mine, the slow blush creeping and burning on my ears and neck. She was wearing a sleeveless plum sweater and black pencil skirt that clung and curved to her voluptuous shape just too fucking perfectly, her blond curls hanging in glossy waves, and I wanted to curl up and die from humiliation.

Emmett was right behind her, chanting "I love beef" or some other nonsense, and moved past her to park himself directly in front of the tenderloin in the center of the table. He was followed by whom I could only presume were Mr. and Mrs. Hale. Mr. Hale looked exactly how I imagined an investment banker would look, starched black suit and shiny black shoes. His gray hair was parted and smoothed, the very essence of decorum and pomp, not a wrinkle, not a smudge, not a hair out of place. He moved past me, a quick nod as he passed, and moved to take a seat opposite Emmett at the long table. His wife carried a rather large goblet of red wine, her manicured nails pressing against the lipstick stained glass as she maneuvered past us in her pointy heels. Not unlike Rosalie, her flowing blond hair curled around her shoulders, her cream blouse fitting to her shapely figure set in long chocolate slacks, and I wondered how she hadn't tripped in her heels and wide leg pants. A couple more glasses of wine and this lady was going to be a death trap.

Mrs. Hale took her seat next to her husband, unfolding her napkin into her lap and folding her hands on top of it. Carlisle, bright and airy in his linens and polo, took a seat next to Mr. Hale, the perfect host set to entertain his guests. Esme followed, her long floral dress dancing around her bare feet, and I wanted to hug her for that shit, for offering a little piece of comfort and ease to offset the general air of anal retentiveness that oozed from the Hales. She took her seat next to Mrs. Hale and Rosalie followed to sit next to her.

Alice and Jasper trailed in last. Jasper was the very depiction of resentment and discontent. His hair twisted around his face in messy tangles, his dark jeans paired with a psychedelic t-shirt, the dancing bears and skeletons blurring into the spectrum of splashed colors. He wore his brown velvet jacket and looked completely misplaced amongst his family. He sat as far from them as possible, between Alice and Edward, Charlie's empty chair and Carlisle serving as a buffer, and I seated myself between Alice and Emmett.

"Well, this looks simply divine, Esme. What a beautiful spread you've got here," Mrs. Hale gushed as she sipped her wine, her red collagen lips pressed into the glass.

"Oh no, this is all Edward's doing. He is a very talented cook," Esme smiled at Edward as he looked down, the compliment causing him to shy away from the conversation. I smiled too, wishing I could have sat next to him so I could hold his hand or whisper all the smart-ass jokes that were tumbling through my brain.

Everyone filled their plates, taking heady portions for themselves and commenting on all the rich aromas emanating from Edward's creations. I noticed Mrs. Hale chose her portions carefully, almost calculating how much of each dish she could eat. As Rosalie spooned her risotto, Mrs. Hale tapped her arm around Esme and Rosalie removed some of the mixture from her plate. I found this interaction interesting. I mean, yeah, Rosalie is a bitch, but she's a fucking adult. She should be able to eat what she wants.

I loaded my plate with salad, opting to withhold from the anchovy dressing, and self consciously scooped a small amount of risotto onto my plate. Taking a deep breath, I brought the mushroom and rice mixture to my mouth, inhaling the delicious, organic smell, and tasting the mixture of flavors. It was absolutely remarkable how Edward could create such blends of flavors, the woodsy, almost nutty flavor of the mushroom mixed with the grain and seasoned with herbs to create a delectable assortment.

I looked up to notice Mrs. Hale watching me eat, a look of wonder upon her face. She smiled a curt grin as our eyes met, hers overwhelmed with shadow and mascara.

"You're Charlie Swan's daughter? Isabella? Is that right?" Mrs. Hale asked me and I nodded, my mouth full of mushroom while frantically trying to swallow.

"How is Charlie? I hear he's been having a rough time?" she pressed, her lips pouting in the fakest form of concern I'd ever seen in my life.

"He's great. He should be here any minute," I answered, taking another large bite in an attempt to force an end to the conversation.

Apparently this bitch was a bit thick because she just kept on talking. "What's your mother's name again? I can't seem to remember her but I do remember when she left. It was all anyone could talk about for weeks." She frowned in contemplation and I wanted to punch her in her fake smug face.

Alice dropped her fork, a loud clang against the porcelain plate, and stood up. "Bella, can you help me get some water for everyone?" Thankful for the distraction, I nodded and followed Alice out of the room quickly.

"Oh my God, I hate her. What the fuck is her problem? She's on her third glass of wine, you know." The whispered words flew from Alice's mouth as soon as we were out of earshot.

"Well, now I see where Rosalie gets it. How did Jasper get out unscathed?" I asked, filling glasses with ice as Alice filled them with water.

"Oh, believe me, he's scathed. They're so self-righteous and judgmental, and they think the sun shines out of Rosalie's ass, which isn't her fault. It just adds a lot of pressure, you know?" Alice took a step away from the counter, taking deep breaths. "Okay, I'm ready." She grabbed as many glasses as she could carry and I was about to do the same when a chime rang out through the house and then a knock at the door.

"Charlie," I said to Alice. She nodded and I went to answer the door.

Charlie was still dressed in his work clothes, slacks and a button-up shirt now that he sat at a desk all day. "Hey," I said as he walked in the door.

"Am I too late? I tried to leave but goddamn bullshit always seems to pile up on my desk at the last minute," he said.

"It's fine. We just started eating." He followed me to the kitchen and I handed him a couple waters, and then grabbed a few more myself. We entered the dining room to find the group engaged in discussion, graduation and college occupying everyone's thoughts.

"Charlie! We're so glad you could make it!" Charlie set the waters on the table as Esme got up to hug him. Carlisle stood, shaking his hand and motioning to the chair next to him.

"Ah, I wouldn't miss it," Charlie responded. "How are you liking those Mariners?"

"I'd like them a lot better if they started winning more games," Carlisle chuckled, settling back into his seat as Charlie sat down. I placed the glasses on the table and took my seat as Charlie greeted Mr. Hale, shaking his hand and waving to his wife. Shit, everyone really did know everyone in Forks.

"We were just discussing how long it's been since we've seen you Charlie!" Mrs. Hale exclaimed. Really? Is that what she was trying to say earlier? "How are you feeling?"

"Great actually, never better," Charlie answered, portioning out his food. I almost told him to put some of the beef back but then I remembered Mrs. Hale and the fucking shoulder tapping and stopped myself. It was just one meal, his reward actually. I would let him have his beef, just for tonight. Tomorrow he'd be back on the list.

"Would you have guessed twelve years ago when we met on that playground that our babies would be graduating and going off to college together? Pretty soon, we'll be hearing wedding bells," Mrs. Hale said to Esme. Her voice was high and sickly sweet. I was pretty sure she was stifling the urge to talk baby talk.

"It is pretty amazing," Esme responded. "I just can't believe you guys will be high school graduates in a week. A week! And then college…it's all gone by so fast."

"What are you going to study there, Emmett?" Charlie asked, taking a bite of his risotto.

"Sports Medicine, Sir. You know, be a trainer or coach or something. I want to work with the professionals. I gotta get on that field somehow." Emmett shrugged his shoulders and shoved another forkful of meat into his mouth.

"I hear you," Charlie chuckled. "How about you, Rosalie? Any plans for college?"

Rosalie looked up, a little startled Charlie had addressed her. She put her fork down slowly. "Um, yes. I'll be attending Washington State as well in the fall."

"Rose is going to major in finance," Mrs. Hale chimed in, the effects of her wine now kicking in. "Just like her father. She's got a naturally mathematical mind. You know, she almost got a perfect score on the math section of the SAT's. She could have gone to any college she wanted but she chose to stay here in Washington. I would have been on the next plane out of here!" she snorted, her wine sloshing in the glass in her hand as she spoke.

"Mom, I said I might major in finance." Rosalie turned to speak directly to Charlie now. "I've been kind of looking into some kind of engineering degree."

"Wow, engineering. Sounds tough," Charlie responded.

"It is tough, but that's what I love about it. It's like a huge puzzle, keeps me challenged," Rosalie said enthusiastically. I think this was the most excited I'd ever seen her.

"Rose, we decided finance would be best. We already discussed this. Let's not fight at the pretty party, okay?" Mrs. Hale said to her daughter as she downed the rest of her wine. Shit! I thought Rosalie was going to fly off the fucking handle. I kept waiting for her to blow up or say something snarky to her mom, but Rose just folded her hands in her lap and nodded, subdued and submissive, like a scolded puppy. Her eyes glazed over and she stared at her plate, forgetting the rest of her dinner and completely tuned out.

Mr. Hale, who had remained silent until now, took this opportunity to offer his commentary. "Someone has to carry on the family name," he said to Carlisle pointedly. The table had gone quiet, tension settling in the room and inhibiting our conversation._ "It's the judgment of the moon and stars…"_

Alice was fuming beside me, her leg bouncing up and down and causing the table to shake. She was clutching Jasper's arm and I realized that for a moment, I had completely forgotten that Jasper was graduating too, that this was his family too, and I was struck with the fact that his parents had pretty much completely ignored his existence here tonight. I felt a sudden kinship with Jasper, his face stone, mirroring the glare of his sister. I understood the pain of this indifference, how horrible it was to feel completely alone in this world, an outcast in your own family.

Alice looked like she wanted to reach across the table and slap the shit out his parents and for a brief moment, I thought she might. Instead she turned to Charlie and said, "Did you know that Rosalie has a twin brother? He's an excellent musician, an artist really. Did you know that he got accepted to the Cornish College of the Arts in Seattle? Yeah, it's one of the best schools in the nation and only has, like, eight hundred students and he could have been one of them but his asshole parents don't think that's a 'viable career choice'. They don't want to pay for his 'pipe dreams' of becoming a famous rock star, because apparently that's all you can fucking do with a degree in music. So you know what he did? He got a job at a music supply store so he can save up to go to school, even though his mother blows enough money on plastic surgery and chemical peels to educate a small army."

Shock stilled the air. Nobody breathed, nobody moved. Mr. and Mrs. Hale were stunned as Alice turned her tirade to them. "How can you do this to your children? You both disgust me." She turned to Rose now, "Rose if you want to be an engineer, you be a fucking engineer. Don't let these idiots tell you what to do. That's not who you are."

Finally, she turned to a stunned Jasper, standing up and grabbing his hand. "Come on, I need to get out of this fucking dress."

Jasper allowed Alice to pull him up, chuckling at the fact that his tiny girlfriend had just called his parents assholes and then practically told them she was going to get naked in front of him. They left the room, hand in hand, and stomped up the stairs to Alice's room.

The room was silent, Esme and Carlisle exchanged weary looks and Edward smiled at me, amusement in his eyes. He was fucking loving this shit, I'm sure. He loved it when assholes got called out, especially in front of a room full of people. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Rosalie slowly bring her hand to her cheek, wiping away a single tear. I turned to look at her and for a moment, a split second, I saw something in her that was vulnerable and real, something sad and lonely and hurt, just like the rest of us. She straightened in her chair and just like that, it was gone, her face once again cold and sneering, but I wouldn't forget that expression. I wouldn't forget that I had seen something imperfect in Rose's supposed perfection.

...

**A/N**

Joni Lyrics Referenced:

_All I Want_

_I Think I Understand_

_Down to You_

_My Old Man_

_Judgment of the Moon and Stars_

Umm, raise your hand if you love Alice!! I do! I do!

Let's chat, lovelies!!


	17. And the Sun Poured in Like Butterscotch

Darlings,

Once again readers, you astound me. Thank you for sweet remarks and such lovely reviews! I'd like to give a special wave to my admirable LJ reviewer, *Hi there **kalimando**, my deary! Thank you for gracing my LJ profile.

Thank you to my beta babe **n7of9**…loving you is easy cause you're beautiful…yep, I'm even singing it. I'm also sending lots of hearts, stars and air brushed t-shirts, cuz I know how much you love them…

Disclaimer: It's not mine.

CH. 17 _"And the Sun Poured in Like Butterscotch"_

**BPOV**

"Hold up guys! I told you I'm fucking slow!" I stepped over the large broken branch, the twigs cracking beneath my new hiking boots as I tried to maneuver my way down the path the others had taken. I wiped the sweat from my forehead and paused to tie my hair up again. The bun I had fastened on the top of my head kept slipping, causing my hair to fall around my face and cling to my damp skin. Thank God for the dense canopy provided by the spanning branches of wide trunks ornamented with moss and vines, the sun infiltrating through the breaks in the leaves and streaming in like spotlights, butterscotch beams of swirling dust, and illuminating the dew-dropped spider webs that flourished in the rarely trodden undergrowth_. __"__Daylight falls upon the path, the forest falls behind…"_

Emmett was in front, jumping off rocks and fallen trees like a fucking spider monkey in cargo shorts and a t-shirt, his bulky, ripped frame surprisingly agile as he bounded to and from each mountainous platform. Edward followed after him, his baggy shorts hanging loosely below his waist, his shirt removed and tucked into his back pocket. I took a moment to appreciate the planes of his smooth, stretched muscles flexing and tensing with each leap, his chest and back slick with sweat that trailed through the delicate swirls of light hair that sparsely decorated his chest and stomach, his skin stretched across his lovely hip bones, and once again I marveled at the fact that this beautiful boy was mine. They were engaged in a competition to see how far they could get without ever touching the forest floor, chiding smart-ass remarks as their hiking boots hardly touched the slippery surfaces, sometimes literally swinging from branches in an attempt to earn bragging rights.

Rosalie, smartly clad in khaki shorts and a simple black tank top, marched expertly behind them, her wide sunglasses hiding any expression on her perfect face and her blond locks flowing behind her. I swear she wasn't even breaking a sweat. Alice, in her high-waisted, pleated denim shorts paired with a red and white striped boat neck top had classified her outfit as camping attire, declaring that she refused to concede to bad fashion even if it was just for traipsing through the woods. Jasper casually walked slightly in front of her, a cap shielding his eyes and sweating through his faded black t-shirt, a triangle of prismatic color streaking across his chest combined with jeans, frayed and dirt-caked around his boots. Their hands intertwined, they navigated easily through the foliage, Alice's black Docs lightly disturbing the fallen leaves. I, on the other hand, was stumbling and tripping all over the place. Despite sweating through my thin purple tee, I wished I had worn long pants instead of these horribly worn jean cutoffs, the only pair of shorts I'd kept. My newly booted feet failing to cooperate, panting and out of breath, I was so obviously out of my element.

We had been hiking all morning, Edward's stipulation for his birthday camping trip. Carlisle and Esme had dropped us off at the trail, each of them driving a car chocked full of supplies up to the campsite located in the dense, lush greenery of the Olympic National Park, a popular spot amongst the Cullens. They would be leaving shortly after dark, leaving Emmett's jeep in case of an emergency and easing my conscious in telling Charlie the half truth that parents would be present. We were hiking there, becoming one with nature, appreciating the great out of doors and shit. It actually was quite breathtaking, the damp warmth unexpected and neglecting to be soothed by the shade from the large firs and cedars. Apparently, camping was something the Cullens did often and my inexperience was obvious in every detail of planning for this trip. The food alone was a complete hassle, my proclivity for meatless meals making the usual camping menu of hot dogs and pork and beans a bit obsolete for me. I told Edward that he didn't need to prepare anything special for me, begged him actually, not wanting to be _that_ person, you know, the high maintenance whiner who always has an issue with something. I just wanted to be seen as normal, one of the gang or whatever.

Edward had, nonetheless, included some meat free meals in an attempt to make sure I would eat. I reassured him I would be fine, but he was firm on the issue and I didn't argue, knowing this would only cause concern.

Then there was the issue of attire, my winter stash no longer pleasing for the warmer weather that had invaded Forks. The sun was shining and it was warm with moisture hanging low in the air, but it didn't penetrate the skin the way the sun had in Phoenix. I had one pair of cutoff jean shorts, a half a dozen t-shirts, and two black bra tops that I wore under everything. I had recently discovered that with an increase in diet came an increase in cup size. I still didn't really need a bra but I definitely couldn't wear any of my old ones, not unless I wanted a wicked case of quadriboob. I found this prospect proof that I was being successful in fulfilling my promise to Edward, giving me a deep sense of satisfaction in the success, extending this contentment into other aspects of my relationships.

For instance, I was able to finally call my mother after almost three months of being in Forks. She had called me once, I guess to tell me they had moved to Florida. I had returned her call, but she hadn't answered. I had left her a message, giving her Charlie's number too, just in case she didn't have it. I knew she did, though, and when she finally called me back on the house phone she was a plume of apologies, her giddy, childlike voice pummeling me with information.

"You are going to love Jacksonville. It's so beautiful here and we are so close to the beach you could walk there. You know, Jacksonville has a very good college, you should think about applying and if you get accepted you could live here. I'm sure we could turn my art studio into a bedroom for you or at least put a bed in there so you could sleep." So much for my own room, not that I wanted it. Renee droned on and on about the weather of Florida, like that was the fucking most important thing on the planet, a 'deal breaker', she had called it. I didn't give a shit about the weather or the beach or college, all I knew is that Edward wasn't in Florida so I didn't want to be there either.

"Are you eating, Bella? Have you gained weight? Please tell me you've gained weight, you looked so sickly last time I saw you." My mother was such a fucking idiot. The more I associated with competent parents, like Esme and Carlisle, the more I realized what a royal fuck up my mother actually was. I know it's not right to blame others for my problems but, shit, she seemed to fill the 'at fault' criteria pretty well. It had been two weeks since the graduation party and something Mrs. Hale had said was stuck in my brain, a tiny fly of an idea buzzing around my thoughts and annoying the living shit out of me. I realized that vile excuse for a human being knew more about my parents than I did. I was jealous, envious that she had been there to witness the aftermath of my mother's flight. I wanted answers and probably for the first time in my life I wanted to ask her questions and actually hear what she had to say.

I ignored her prying, choosing to keep that bit of information to myself, afraid that if I told her about Edward and my promise to him she'd somehow fuck that up too. Instead, I formulated my own questions.

"Um, mom? Do you know the Hales, by any chance?" I asked her, trying to gather how much information she actually remembered from Forks, her memory always failing at the most inopportune time, or the most convenient depending upon how you look at it.

"Hales? Hales…" She dragged the name out like saying it slower would force her to remember.

I sighed into the phone wishing my mother would fucking come through with something, anything, for once in her life.

Finally, she spoke. "They were rich, right? Snooty types, thought they were hot shit. Yeah, they were a couple years ahead of us in school." Us, her and my dad, the pairing was awkward coming from the voice on the receiver.

"They said they remember you. That they remember when we left Forks." I waited, breathing quietly so as not to miss one word of her response.

"Hmm. Did they?" Her voice had gone still and blank, that youthful innocence lost in transmission, and my stomach twisted in apprehension, fearful yet craving whatever she was going to say next. "Alright, baby. I gotta go, Phil wants to go get some dinner. I'll talk to you later."

What the fuck? No! She cannot do this to me! Of all the fucked up, shady, piece of shit things for her to say, she settles on nothing.

"Mom! Why did we leave? You seriously aren't going to tell me?" I shouted into the phone.

My mother sighed, "Bella, that was a long time ago. I've moved on. But I love you and I'll talk to you soon. Bye baby!" My mother hadn't even waited until I could respond before she hung up and the bile gurgled and churned in my stomach. I had tried to think about my promise, about Edward, tried to imagine him standing behind me as I kneeled over the toilet in the bathroom. None of it mattered that day. That day had been a bad day. I had been weak.

I had spent the next twenty minutes purging what was left in my stomach from breakfast, having skipped lunch, and then sobbing in the bathroom under the guise of taking a shower. I just couldn't figure out why she wouldn't talk to me about it. Maybe she didn't want to drag me into it because I was living here with him. Or maybe he really didn't want me and she didn't want to hurt my feelings. My mind had been fucking spinning from the possibilities and then, of course, I had to tell Edward what I had done. When he got to my house that night he asked me and I told him. I felt nauseated just thinking about the pain in his eyes, how he had crushed me to him and told me it was okay and that not every day was going to be perfect and I shouldn't expect it to be. It was exactly what he was supposed to say, exactly what should have made me feel better. "_So overly loving and gentle…"_

But that time it didn't. He held me and let me cry into his neck, feeling relieved in the emotional purge as I cleansed my mind of those feelings of self hatred and tried to remind myself that Edward wanted me, he loved me, and that I was good enough to be with him.

No matter what, though, whether I had been strong or overcome by weakness, we always dealt with it together, a team, a unit, dividing and conquering one fucked up situation after another.

It was the same here, in the forest, the pure air cleansing and invigorating, the woodsy aromas of pine and dirt swirling as I was struggled to keep up. Suddenly, there he was by my side, steadying me as I caught the toe of my boot on a troublesome tree stump, pitching forward into the green moss and grasping at the nearest tree for stability, my palm grazing against the bark. I was met with strong arms wrapped around my waist, preventing me from further damaging myself.

"Whoa there, killer," Edward muttered under his breath and he pulled me to standing, smoothing the stray hairs from my face, his long fingers gently caressing my face and neck. "You okay?"

I nodded, giving him a tiny kiss on his sweet, soft mouth, the points of his lips pulling into a smooth grin. "I fricking suck at hiking. I didn't even know this was something a person could suck at."

"Did she fall? Did I miss it?" Emmett was shouting from atop a massive boulder, his voice reverberating off the quiet of the thick trees. I heard Rosalie giggle quietly, trying to stifle the sardonic chime.

"You know this means I won the bet," Emmett added, yelling across the wide distance between us.

"Fuck off, dillweed!" Edward responded loudly with a grin, and we could hear the loud chuckles of the others peppering the quiet with laughter from their various locations along the trail. They were quite a bit ahead of us now, blazing through the path as if they'd done this hundreds of times before.

"Luckily, I'm practically an expert at hiking. You're in good hands, trust me," Edward whispered in my ear. He took my hand, kissing the scraped skin before carefully guiding me slowly through the forest, helping me through brush and over rocks, and gently lifting me over the more dangerous areas, the forest mocking me with her tricky death traps of twine and twigs. Shit, karma really wanted to see me suffer today.

"So, where exactly is this campground extraordinaire?" I asked Edward. What I really wanted to say was, fuck I wish I would have rode with Esme, at least then I wouldn't be holding Edward back, but this was his birthday trip and I wanted to remain positive. I guess I could just chalk hiking up as one more thing I should never be allowed to do, the only result being imminent mortal peril.

Edward chuckled, peering through my pretenses. "It's only, like, another mile or two." He shrugged his shoulders as if this was the most normal statement in the world. Shit! A mile or two? He must have noticed the disappointment darkening my features because the next thing I knew he had lifted me over his shoulder and was running down the trail, trying to catch up with the others.

"Edward!" I exclaimed as I watched the back of his boots kick at his shirt tucked in his back pocket, delighting in the sprinkling of freckles on his shoulders and skimming the muscles of his back down to his waistband. His shorts had slipped low on his hips as he ran, exposing the top of the crack of his ass. So fucking adorable. It wasn't such a bad position to be in if I could forget the fact that he might crash into a tree or something. My hands desperately tried to grasp his damp skin and I found my fingers digging into the skin of his sides. He expertly maneuvered the rocks and fallen branches, avoiding the slippery moss and finding traction in the gravely dirt. "Put me down," I tried to mumble as my voice jumped with each bounce of his step, his bare shoulder pressing into my abdomen and making it difficult to speak.

He only jogged maybe forty feet before stopping, comprehension worming its way into my thick skull. Oh. He was messing with me. "You're an ass," I muttered, pressing my lips into the back of his neck, glistening with perspiration, his musky scent delicious and organic and just so boy.

"You love it," Edward chuckled, helping me to the ground as we ventured into the small clearing. Edward pulled his shirt from his pocket and slipped it over his head and I kind of grumbled at the masking of his beautiful form. I noticed the jeep parked next to the Volvo, the dent in the hood reflecting the light in metallic creases. They were situated on the incline of the hill in front of the level stretch of land where we would make our camp. Surrounded by dense trees and open to the night sky, the clearing was adorned with tall grass and sweet wildflowers similar to the bouquet Edward had given me on our flawed but not failed first date. We hurried over to help, pulling some bags from the back of the jeep.

"You made it!" Emse skipped over to us, enveloping us both in big hugs and kissing our cheeks. I loved how Esme always made me feel so welcomed, like she truly cared that I was there, like my presence mattered. It was a far cry from the greetings most people offered, fake cookie cutter salutations purely out of politeness. Everything about Esme was real and true and I could trust that when she hugged me, she genuinely meant every squeeze.

"How did you like that hike, Bella?" Carlisle joined us to say hello, shaking Edward's hand and giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"Piece of cake," I joked, pretty sure Emmett had already informed them of my hiking ineptitude.

"It's a tough one, pretty intermediate. I'm sure you did very well for a beginner," Carlisle chuckled, as we carried the bags up the small hill to the clearing.

Jasper was already erecting a small dome tent as Alice and Rosalie pulled groceries from the bags, unloading them onto the small plastic folding picnic table that Esme had just set up. Carlisle and Emmett pulled a square folding table from the back of the jeep, unfolding the legs and setting up what would be our kitchen for the weekend. Other various items tumbled from the vehicles in the many helpful arms, a stove, kerosene lamps, a food storage bin, bungees, ropes, various types of sporting equipment, and an ice chest.

Emmett then pulled what I could only describe as a bagload of assault rifles from the back of the jeep. I was beginning to wonder what the fuck I had gotten myself into. Emmett noticed me staring and held one of the guns in the air.

"Paintball," he grinned, while Edward and Jasper abandoned their responsibilities to check out their guns.

"I haven't done this in forever," Edward held the gun, aiming at a tree. I still wasn't quite sure what they were talking about. Edward explained, "They shoot little balls of paint," as he pulled a plastic bag of colored balls from the large duffel bag. I was perplexed. That had to fucking hurt when you got hit with that shit.

"And you just run around shooting each other?" I asked, confused at how this could be conveyed as entertainment.

"You don't just run around, Bella. You strategize, hunt. It's guerilla warfare, baby." Jasper attached a metal cylinder he had pulled from the duffel to the side of the gun.

"What's that? Your oxygen tank, for deep sea shooting?" I smirked.

"Close, CO2. It's the gas that propels the paintball forward," Jasper responded, dead serious. He attached a plastic container to the top, pouring several paintballs into the holder.

"Doesn't that hurt?" I asked Edward, looking at the gun warily. "When you get hit?"

Edward shrugged, "Sure, it stings, but the adrenaline rush is fucking amazing, that feeling of being tracked, anticipating the sting. It's probably the most exciting game ever."

"It only hurts if you're a complete pussy," Emmett laughed, knocking into Edward.

"Remember you said that Emmett. Did everyone hear that? 'It only hurts if you're a pussy.' I'll be reminding you about that when you're crying like a little bitch tomorrow." Emmett grabbed Edward into a strangle hold, the two grappling and knocking into shit as they tried to dominate. Emmett obviously had the strength, but Edward was fast and slinky, practically dislocating his shoulder to squirm from Emmett's grip.

Edward and I walked down the small hill to grab some more shit from the car. I looked around, realizing that here weren't any other campers. Anywhere. In fact, there wasn't anything around, no buildings and no signs of civilization.

"Um, where's the restroom?" I asked Edward quietly, not wanting to look like a fool in front of everyone. He pulled my backpack from the trunk of the Volvo and set it on the ground as well as another large duffle bag and some totes.

"You're looking at it," he replied, motioning to the forest around us.

"What? There's not a porta-pottie or something somewhere? Are you kidding me?" I said lowly, really trying not to make a big deal about it but kind of freaking out about the absence of a bathroom and fearing the repercussions if my compulsion where to show its ugly face here this weekend.

"It's okay, Bella. We have this little toilet thing that you put-"

I cut him off quickly. "That's not what I'm worried about," I said rather pointedly.

His face faltered, understanding flickering across his features, and he pulled me into a tight hug. "It's only one night. Two days. You'll be fine."

I nodded. He was right, I had been fine and I would be fine. It was just the possibility that maybe, and the fact that sometimes I couldn't control it, that scared the shit out of me. I didn't want to be the one to ruin Edward's birthday with my perpetual puking.

He brought his gentle hands to cradle my face, his green circles exceptionally vivid against the backdrop of the forest, and whispered, "You can do this."

I could do this. As long as Edward was with me, I could do this. I reached up to press my lips to his, a slow, sensual kiss as I brought his bottom lip into my mouth, licking across the flesh and just tasting the tip of his tongue. _"The dizzy dancing way you feel…"_

He tried to deepen the kiss but I pulled away smiling, not wanting to do anything indecent in front of his family. He smiled back, squinting his eyes in disapproval. "Tease," he muttered, grabbing most of the luggage and handing me my backpack.

"You love it," I replied, slapping his ass as we walked back up to the clearing.

We continued to set up camp, emptying the cars and finding places for the primitive cooking supplies, hoards of board games and sporting equipment. When we were finished there were two large tents filled with sleeping bags, blankets, pillows and our luggage. We stashed all the food in two large storage bins and an ice chest and set up tons of folding chairs around an old dryer drum that Emmett had set into the ground next to a stacked and overflowing pile of firewood. From the charcoaled dirt burned around the already existing ghost of a hole, it looked as if this spot had been used before. The guys set up a volleyball net and a set of croquet hoops in the open grass and I made a mental note to steer clear of that general vicinity, the traps surely detrimental to my need to not break any bones in the middle of the forest.

By the time we were finished it was well past noon and Emmett was rummaging through the bin, snacking on a huge bag of trail mix. "What's for lunch? I'm starving."

"Sandwiches." Edward pulled the already made sandwiches from the ice chest. "And then there are chips and snacks and stuff in the food tote."

Everyone grabbed a sandwich, Edward bringing me mine, a big B on the side of the foil. I smiled as I unwrapped the sandwich, noticing Edward had left off the meat and loaded the wheat roll with tons of crisp vegetables instead, cucumber, bell pepper, pepperoncini, olives, sprouts, and lettuce. I ate the sub slowly, trying to gauge my body for the pressure in my belly, and with the first sign of discomfort I wrapped the rest of my sandwich back up, satisfied and relishing my small success. Being able to decipher my own body was giving me confidence that this was going to work.

After lunch, Edward, Emmett, Jasper and even Carlisle took their paintball guns and set out into the mountain for target practice. I could hear the shots thudding against trees and rocks, sometimes followed by a hoot or holler, indicating a particularly good shot, I assumed. Esme dragged a chair over to one of the flowering bushes and began sketching the poignant petals onto a sketchpad, while Rosalie sat in one of the chairs by the fire pit sunning herself, her shirt rolled and tied to bare her perfect midriff while she worked on Sudoku puzzles in a small book. Alice had her astrology book sprawled out, laying on her stomach on a sheet in the grass not far from Rose, her Docs kicking through the air as she scribbled into her book, the pages swishing in the quiet. I went to join her on the sheet, bringing one of my books and laying down next to her, fully immersing myself in exploring the social confines of femininity in nineteenth century New Orleans. _"They are the ladies of the canyon…"_

An hour must have passed as the sun sank behind the high trees. I could no longer hear the repetitive thuds of the paintball guns so the boys must have ventured further into the woods. Alice had fallen asleep next to me, her slow and even breaths a peaceful, lulling hum, and Esme had gone down by the meandering ravine that ran below the edge of the clearing. I'm pretty sure she had to piss and was just too polite to say anything.

The sun now fading in the sky, Rosalie had given up her tanning. She sighed, twisting her long hair back into a low bun at the base of her neck, her puzzle book tossed on the table nearby. I went back to my book and within a few moments the plight of the Pontelliers was gnawing and fixating in my brain again.

"What book is that?" Rosalie asked, her voice rough and brash. I looked up, startled that she was even speaking to me and asking a real question at that, yet I feared the manipulation hidden in her inquisitiveness.

I tossed it to her, limiting the offering of ammunition for future insults. She caught the book, glancing at the title and flipping through the pages.

"Never heard of it. What's it about?" Rosalie asked dryly.

"Um, it's about this woman who is tired of following all the social rules of high society. So she kind of rebels, stops doing what she's told and starts living for herself." The moment the description was out of my mouth I thought of the dinner party and Rosalie and Jasper's dipshit parents, and I literally wanted to grab the words and shove them back into my mouth. I half expected Rosalie to shove them down my throat for me but she just continued to flip through the pages, her features expressionless.

"_The voice of __the sea __is seductive; never ceasing, whispering, clearing, murmuring, inviting __the soul __to wander for a spell in the abysses of solitude…"_ Rosalie read out loud from the book then trailed off, her eyes silently darting across the page.

"Do you want to read it?" I asked her. "I've already read it, like, five times. I can read something else."

Rosalie looked up from the pages, her violet eyes discerning and calculating, really trying to decide if she should accept my offer. "Okay," she said finally turning her cool gaze back to the book.

"What are you guys talking about?" Alice stretched beside me, raising her arms over her head, her hair sticking to her face as she sat up and looked around to take in her surroundings. "Are they still gone? Where's Esme?"

"Yes, they're still gone and I think Esme's down by the river," I answered. Alice got up and skipped over to one of the tents, disappearing inside for a moment and reemerging with something in her hand.

"Who needs a nature hike?" She held up a smoothly rolled joint, perfectly twisted and secured on both ends.

"Alice, I can't get high while Esme and Carlisle are here. I wouldn't be able to look them in the face," Rosalie said, her eyes still scanning the book.

"Oh fucking come on Rose. It's only one joint and there's three of us. You probably won't even get high." Alice walked over to me and held out her hand to help me up. I took it, standing beside her as she tried to get Rosalie to play along. "Besides, you never even inhale."

Rosalie wearily looked at Alice, who just smiled her biggest smile and held out the joint like a pendulum ticking in temptation. Rosalie sighed as she stood up and put the book on the picnic table and started to walk away from the ravine towards the woods. Alice and I stood there wondering where the fuck she was going when she turned around.

"What are you fucking waiting for?" Rosalie shouted. Delighted, Alice grabbed my hand and we ran after her into the woods.

…

**EPOV**

I crouched low in the brush, the dirt crumbling beneath my boots as the sun streamed through the trees to scatter the light across the forest floor. I knew Jasper was behind one of these fucking trees because I had heard him curse when he slipped on the wet mud and fell on his ass. I ran, still crouched, to rest behind a decaying log, frightening a squirrel that scurried up the dead tree and jumped out of sight. Fucking squirrel! I breathed in even, silent inhales, trying to remain anonymous and hidden while my heart pounded in my chest at the risk of exposure.

Clack, clack, clack! Bright red splattered against the tree next to my shoulder and I bolted to take cover. Fucking Carlisle! Ambushing me when I least expected it. Shit! I should have known his mind would be calculating. He had been holding back, hiding and shit, and I thought it was just lack of confidence. He'd been planning this shit all along.

"Did I hit you?" Carlisle yelled from his hiding place. I still couldn't quite place his position.

"No, I'm clean," I shouted back. We hadn't really planned on playing a game but Emmett started talking shit after missing five targets in a row, claiming to be more accurate under pressure. Jasper had called him on it and well, here we were in the middle of a fucking raw game of Points, without masks or pads or any of that shit. When we were out of paint, we were out, and if we got accidentally hit in the face, we were done, like, literally done. People have died from that shit. One thing was for sure, it made the game a whole lot more fucking exciting when you feared the ball colliding with your almost bare skin at 280 feet per second, bruising and splitting in purple and blue battle wounds.

I was ahead by two, having hit Jasper in the leg twice and Emmett right in the gut once. Emmett had fired a shot that hit me in the shoulder but the ball didn't break so he didn't get the point. He was fucking pissed about it too, out for blood, so to speak, and desperate to redeem himself. I was tempted to peek around the large boulder I was now pressed against but I knew Jasper was close and had probably used our voices to determine our locations.

Clack! Clack, clack!

"Fuck, Jasper! What the hell? You only need one shot to get the point! Shit, motherfucker! That fucking hurt like a son of a bitch!" I popped my head up to see Emmett pulling his shirt up in the back while twisting and trying to see where he had been hit, the green paint splattered all over his skin. Sure enough, three perfectly circular red welts were forming against his ribs.

Jasper climbed over the fallen log he had used for cover. "I think I broke paint. My gun's all jammed." He began unscrewing the pieces to inspect his weapon.

Clack!

"Fuck!" I shouted. Red splattered against my thigh, the impact of the ball numbing at first and then spreading into a tingling ache throughout my leg. I looked over to see Carlisle beaming at me from behind a tree, using Emmett as a diversion and causing me to forget I was still being hunted. Sly motherfucker. Him and Jasper must have been working together.

"That's one, right?" Carlisle asked.

I pulled the leg of my shorts up to inspect the wound. It was already bruising, blood rushing to the impacted skin. This one was going to stick around a while.

"Yeah, one," I muttered, wincing in pain as I touched the round mark.

"My gun's shit. I gotta go back and clean it out or I won't be able to play tomorrow," Jasper said, using his shirt to try to clean up some of the misfired paint.

"It's probably time to start building the fire for dinner anyway," Carlisle commented, looking at the sunless sky. It was twilight, the sun setting the clear sky on fire, a billowy paintbrush of purples and reds and yellows streaked across the horizon.

We hiked back through the forest, anxious to get back to the shallow river so we could clean up. I don't know what kind of toxic shit they fill paintballs with but it smells like rancid ass. I couldn't wait to get it off me.

The sky almost dark now, I washed as best I could, planning on throwing the paint stained shirt in the fire as soon as I got back to camp. A dead tree trunk lay across the water, forming a natural bridge, and we crossed the ravine and walked up the small hill to the clearing. Rosalie and Esme sat at the plastic picnic table, a cribbage board open between them as Rose shuffled the cards. They had lit the small kerosene lamp, the bright glow providing the light for their game.

Bella was sitting in the grass, her legs bent to her chest and her head resting on her knees, ivory skin glowing in creamy luminescence. I recognized my plaid flannel shirt wrapped around her shoulders, the sleeves hiding her hands, and she had changed into a pair of corduroy pants, the material tight and accentuating her slight frame. She was humming with her eyes closed as Alice braided stems of long wildflowers through her dark hair. Alice, also now clad in warmer clothing, abandoned Bella's plaits and jumped up when she saw us, running over to Jasper and jumping into his arms, knocking him over in a fierce hug as they both tumbled to the ground laughing.

Bella lifted her head, smiling dreamily as her deep liquid eyes met mine and I bent down to pick one of the small indigo flowers that grew in the clearing. I brought it to her, kneeling down to lightly touch the petals decorating her heavy locks and to kiss her full, pink lips.

She tasted like ash and heady carbon and I knew she had been smoking. I licked my lips, the earthy, grainy taste of weed now in my mouth, and I almost wanted to spit. I was sure she'd smoked with Alice and I was sure it was my dumbass sister's idea but something about the act caused anger to bubble in my chest, pissed my sister didn't give a shit about the risk, but more so the fact that Bella would partake knowing how I felt about it. I breathed out heavily, turning my head away from her as she tried to find my gaze again.

"What's wrong?" Bella truly looked perplexed, like she honestly didn't know why I would be upset. "Hey, look at me." She brought her hands to my face and I could smell it on her fingers too as she tried to find my eyes. My teeth ground together, my jaw fucking aching from the pressure. Bella pressed her nose into the nape of my neck, her breath tickling the skin there.

Bella giggled as she exhaled, "You stink," she said, kissing my neck anyways.

"So do you," I replied, without thinking. Shit! That was a bit harsh and I immediately felt remorse in my contemptuous jeer.

"Oh. So that's what this is about," she stated, removing her touch and bringing her hands back to wrap around her knees.

I closed my eyes, not wanting to be upset, not wanting to let this fuck up the trip. I tried to talk some sense into my own damn head. I shouldn't really care, the risk was minimal to her, and it wasn't like she did it all the time. In fact, the last time had been the party and that was months ago.

Besides, it's not a secret that she smoked pot before she came to Forks, before I was a part of her life. I couldn't ask her to change everything because of me, because of what I wanted, could I? Was that fair? She hadn't asked anything of me. She accepted everything I told her with ease and compassion, even the fucked up shit that should have sent her screaming. I should be willing to do the same.

I tried to pull myself together, taking deep breaths and focusing on forcing the fury from my chest, the constriction lessening with each breath.

The fire pit was a blaze of fire now, Emmett shoving more and more wood into the bin as Rosalie berated him for acting like a moron. Esme and Carlisle readied the hotdogs for roasting as Alice pulled out the pasta salad and condiments from the cooler and handed them to Jasper who set them on the square table. They looked like some family from a fucking Old Navy commercial. Why is it always me that has the issue, the one that brings everyone down with my bullshit attitude? Why do I have to be such a fucking idiot about shit like this?

"Edward…" I held up a finger asking her to give me a moment, still trying to control my anger, or at least mask the anger so she wouldn't know what an asshole I was.

Bella closed her eyes and leaned her head against her knees. I was ruining this for her because I was the one who couldn't get a fucking grip. I couldn't let that happen.

"Bella?" She turned her head to look at me, her pretty expressive face glowing in the flickering of the tall orange flames. Her deep eyes begged for understanding, for acceptance, and I gave it to her, running my hand up her arm and into her hair, massaging the base of her scalp as her eyes closed and melted into my hand. Her lips parted and I brought my mouth to hers, drinking her in, the ashy musk mixed with sweet ambrosial Bella in a languid pull of tongues and lips. I reluctantly pulled away, but I needed to apologize.

"I'm sorry I'm an asshole," I said, my hand still tangled in her hair at the nape of her neck.

"I didn't even think…" She trailed off, shaking her head as she clenched her eyes tight. "I just didn't think, Edward. I'm sorry."

"No need to be. You didn't do anything wrong." I kissed her again, light and easy, a gentle peck upon her berry lips. I picked up one of the braids framing her face, flipping it between my fingers as she smiled.

"Alice did it. She hypnotized me into smoking pot and then she made me sit here while she braided wildflowers into my hair," she joked.

"Fucking stinky hippies," I muttered. Bella laughed as she shoved my side and I stood up and pulled her with me. We walked over to join my family, all of whom were sitting around the fire, their hotdogs speared and roasting in the flames. I ducked into the tent to get a clean, long sleeved shirt, tossing on my pants as the temperature continued to decline. It wouldn't get too cold, mid forties maybe, but still cold enough.

"Bella! I got a hot wiener for you!" Emmett held up two hotdogs stuck on the straightened wire hanger, grinning like an oversized eight year old and stupidly excited he got to say wiener. What the hell? I was pretty sure he knew Bella didn't eat meat by now.

Bella just laughed, passing it off as a joke, but I was a little irritated at his goading.

"Dude, she's a vegetarian. She doesn't eat meat," I tried to explain as if I were really talking to an eight year old.

"Are you speaking from personal experience, Edward?" Emmett furrowed his eyebrows and I wanted to sock him right in his fresh paintball wounds. "Are you sure she just doesn't like your meat? Rose gobbles up mine."

Everyone groaned in disgust at Emmett's crude joke, Rose throwing the rest of her hotdog at him and irritated as all shit.

"What? What'd I say?" Emmett shrugged his shoulders, grinning like an idiot.

"Enough, we're eating, that's crossing the line," Esme smacked her son's arm, causing him to flinch slightly. It was kind of ironic the way big huge Emmett acted like a little baby when his mamma scolded him.

"We tried to tell him but he wouldn't listen," Alice remarked. "He said there's no way in hell Bella is camping with the Cullens and not eating a hot dog. Called it blasphemy, he did!"

"I sure as hell did. What do you think you're going to eat? You can't eat a freaking fire roasted carrot? You have to try it at least, just to get the full camping experience," Emmett added.

"She's not going to eat the hot dog," I said, looking at Bella's resigned expression. This couldn't be good for her situation, the constant talk of her eating just making shit worse.

"I'll try it," Bella said, determination in her every syllable. I looked at her sharply, Alice's gaze following mine.

"You don't have to, Bella," I said, turning to speak to only her. "I'll eat it, it won't go to waste. I'm starving, really, it won't be a problem."

"I want to try it," Bella said stubbornly. "It's just one bite, no big deal. If I don't like it, I'll spit it out."

"That's what she said," Emmett interjected.

"Enough!" Esme shouted.

"I don't think it's a good idea," I said to Bella quietly. She hadn't eaten meat in a long time and with the delicate nature of her digestive system I didn't think she'd be able to keep it down.

"Well, I do. Don't worry, Edward, it'll be fine." Bella walked over to the table and took a bun from the bag and Emmett carefully placed the cooked hot dog between the bread. She sat down in the chair beside him and I watched her smell the meat, her face curious as she bit into the hot dog, chewing slowly and then, after what seemed like forever, swallowing the small bite.

Bella smiled at her accomplishment, her small attempt at normalcy seemingly successful, but I was still wary of the greasy meat's effect on her sensitive stomach.

"Hell yeah, we have ourselves a meat eater!" Emmett cheered, everyone settling into an easy chatter.

I fixed myself a hotdog, not bothering with any of the other side dishes, and stood by the table watching Bella carefully, looking for any sign of distress. The others were occupied discussing the earlier paintball game and Emmett was whining about his trifecta of welts. I didn't even bother reminding everyone of what Emmett had said earlier about paintball pain making you a pussy. I was focused on Bella as she took small bites, chewing slowly and deliberately before swallowing. She was starting to slow her chewing, her bites becoming less and less frequent and I realized I had abandoned my dinner altogether, my eyes fixated on her, waiting for her to give me a signal.

Bella stopped eating altogether, getting up and tossing the rest of her hotdog into the trash bag we had affixed to one of the trees. She walked in a pacing circle and I got up, fearing she was going to be sick. Nobody else noticed, save for Alice, their discussion taking precedence over Bella's eating habits.

Looking around, she quietly slipped down the hill to the ravine and I got up quickly, throwing my hotdog in the fire and following her to the water's edge. She was bracing herself against a tree, her other hand on her forehead, and I noticed she had dipped her hand into the cool water before placing it to her brow.

"Edward, I can't…" she clutched her middle, obviously in pain, and I understood why. Her body was reacting to the foreign substance, the meat. It wasn't her compulsion, problem, disorder, or whatever the fuck we were calling it today. It was normal, a totally anticipated reaction. I fucking knew this shit was going to happen.

But she didn't.

"Bella, it's okay. You're just reacting to the meat. Your body hasn't digested anything like this in over two years. This is a completely normal reason to puke." I kissed her temple, rubbing her back in long gentle strokes and smoothing her hair from her face.

"But I really don't want to puke, I really don't want to," she was pleading, tears slipping down her cheeks as she crouched to the ground, her arms folded across her stomach as she rested in a ball on her heels.

"I know. It's okay." I pulled her hair away from her face, her braids loosening and the flowers wilting, petals and leaves trapped in the tangles. I pulled some of the debris from their snares and then wrapped her long hair into a neat bun, like I had once before.

Bella stood up quickly, her hand over her mouth as she clutched my arm, then turned away from me. She walked a few feet away, trying to regain her composure, and then she was bent over, vomiting violently, falling to her knees as she coughed and spat into the earth. She sobbed, crying "Fuck!" as she heaved again. I knelt beside her and she didn't try to stop me, she just kept crying and dry heaving as I rubbed her back and whispered soothing 'I love you's' and the occasional clichéd 'it's okay'.

"I'm so sorry, Edward. I thought I could do it, I had been doing so well with it and I just wanted to eat with you guys, like a normal fucking person, camp like a Cullen, and I couldn't do it. What is wrong with me? Why can't I do this? Edward, why can't I just make it stop?" Bella was shaking and I pulled her into my lap as she twisted her hands into my shirt, her tears soaking into my chest as I rocked her slightly, just fucking willing her to find some comfort in my embrace, in my touch.

"Bella, this isn't like all the other times. Okay? This is different, this _is_ normal. This is not a failure, you hear me? This is a victory. You felt confident enough to try something new, take a big risk. That's pretty fucking awesome." I kissed the top of her head, holding her face in my hand. "And you _are_ camping like a Cullen. A beautiful, brave, extremely stubborn Cullen."

I liked that, Bella being a Cullen. I liked that a lot. This feeling was foreign to me, planning for the future. I'd always been so worried about developing that dreaded disease, I only lived in the moment, fearful of the only future I could see, a future devoid of feeling or tenderness or love. But now, another future was looming, a future with Bella, with someone I love, and I wanted it. I wanted it all, the house, the kids, the wife. My beautiful wife, my Bella.

But could I have this? The truth was, I could never be sure that I wouldn't develop schizophrenia. Ever. It was a constant threat, forever tainting the small particles of hope and happiness I was finding with fear and dread, dread that twisted in my soul at the very thought of what the outcome could be. _Ivory skin and dark swirling tangles and blood, the crimson claret trailing from her delicate pink mouth…_

I pushed the images from my mind, desperately trying to diminish the fear by focusing on what Bella needed from me in this moment. She needed reassurance, she needed acceptance, and she needed to feel secure, fastened to the fact that this was not a setback.

"I'm so proud of you, Bella," I whispered into her hair, smoke and lavender and earth invading my senses. She sobbed another tearful gasp, shaking in my embrace and pressing my shirt to her face.

"Why? Why are you doing this for me? Why do you even bother with all the shit you have to put up with? I'm nothing but a big fucking hassle." Bella choked out the baneful words and I wanted to reach inside her and pull out all the black and sick and dark hatred she held onto. Instead, I appealed to her more logical nature.

"Bella, would you do it for me?" Bella stilled, pulling her face from my chest to looking up into my eyes.

"Of course I would. I would do anything, Edward." Her fingers still gripping my shirt, I held her face in my hands, losing myself in her deep, dark pupils, forcing all my conviction into my words.

"Then you already know why."

Her face softened, comprehension dawning behind her wet lashes. She nodded, solidifying the fact that we were a unit, and burrowing her face in my chest again, calm and quiet this time.

We sat beside the creek for a few more moments, the black water sloshing against the rocks and bending around the exposed branches, the force carving and eroding the earth. Bella reached down to the stream, pooling the water in her hands and splashing it to her face, using the t-shirt she wore beneath my flannel to dry her skin. She pulled the hem of the shirt to wipe her face and exposed her small stomach and the lower curve of her breasts, my position below her profitable in noticing the white enticing skin, and I felt like a complete fucker oogling her chest and imaging my hands all over her while she was dealing with this shit. She swiped at the wisps of hair in her eyes, pushing it behind her ears as she stood up. She offered me her outstretched hand and I took it, standing and wrapping my arm around her waist as we walked up the hill, back to the clearing.

"Are you okay? We could hide out for awhile. I'm sure we could find something to do," I moved my hand under her shirt, running my hand along the naked skin of her back and side, slipping my fingers under her waistband and clutching at her hip. The flesh pressing beneath my fingers seethed and I clutched her closer to me, fucking wanting her, needing to touch her, finding that place between us where we connect, where everything perfect fucking collides in unison and just fucking fits.

"Tempting, but I think we should go back." She curled her face into my side, wrapping herself around me as we entered the clearing, the light of the fire covering my family in a flickering ocher glow. Esme stood when she saw us, moving towards us in concern. Shit! They were going to ask fucking questions.

Bella must have sensed my trepidation because she squeezed my waist in understanding as Esme approached us, concerned and silently begging for reassurance.

"Are you okay? Is everything okay?" Esme asked quietly. Yeah, I was pretty fucking sure Esme knew about Bella's problem, her overt concern failing to mask her supposed ignorance. I smiled at my aunt, knowing that she was trying to be nonchalant and that she was failing miserably, her compulsion to mother overpowering her emotions.

I started to speak, but Bella beat me to it. "Yeah, I just got sick. Edward thinks it was the hot dog because I haven't had meat in so long," she said to Esme. Esme nodded, looking at me for confirmation and I gave a quick nod in agreement.

"Do you want us to take you home? We're leaving in a little bit, we could drop you off," Esme offered.

"No! No, I'm fine now. Honestly. It was just the hotdog. Maybe…maybe I should eat something else, like some crackers or something." Bella had picked up on Esme's awareness as well and was giving her this as reassurance.

"Okay, but if you need us, you'll call? Emmett has his cell and we're just a quick trip down the road." Esme pulled Bella away from me, surprise on Bella's face as Esme hugged her in a tight embrace. "You call if you need anything, you hear me? Anything, anytime," Esme spoke in a quiet fierceness and Bella nodded, her eyes glistening in the moonlight.

We joined the family around the fire pit, Alice's eyes oscillating between mine and Bella's. The conversation quieted as we approached, everyone apprehensive in how they should act, a general feeling of awkwardness surrounding the campsite.

But Bella wouldn't have it. She plastered on a huge smile and joined the group, plopping down in the chair next to the one Emmett and Rosalie were sharing.

"Congratulations Emmett, your hot wiener made me puke," Bella joked, trying to ease the tense atmosphere and surprising the shit out of me. I thought she'd want to keep it quiet, not wanting to draw attention to herself.

"Seriously, you puked? I guess you can't please everyone," Emmett responded, shrugging his shoulders. "Just the one that matters." He wrapped his arms around Rosalie, suffocating her in a grappling bear hug.

Everyone groaned in disgust, the tension dissipating and making room for easy banter once again. Bella smiled warmly at me and I was amazed at her bravery, fucking floored by the awe I felt for this girl and how it swelled and surprised me with each passing day.

We roasted marshmallows and made celebratory birthday s'mores, the group singing despite my protests. Honestly, they were terrible, a bunch of tone deaf bastards, but this really was the best fucking way to spend my eighteenth birthday. Carlisle and Esme left after a wicked game of Uno aided by the bright kerosene lamp. Carlisle helped us hoist the airtight food tubs and ice chest into the back of the jeep and we sent the trash bag home with them, a pathetic guard against bears, but it was the best we could do.

Bella was a little apprehensive as she watched us bear proof the campsite before they left, ridding the site of anything food related.

"Are there really bears, or are you just messing with me because you know I'm inexperienced and you get some sick satisfaction out of seeing me squirm?" Bella asked me, her worried eyes scanning the dark forest that skirted the clearing.

"We've seen bears before but it's only a small risk. I assure you, we know what we're doing out here, and we have weapons if we need them," I tried to ease her fears. We'd really only seen one or two bears in the past two years and they were always on our hikes, farther up in the woods. Really, we were just playing it safe.

"Weapons?" she asked cautiously, her eyes narrowing as she titled her head to the side.

I smiled widely, "Emmett has, like, five different knives tucked away in his tent, two of which I'm sure are hidden on his person."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better? Because honestly, I don't know what's worse, a bear attack or Emmett harboring mass amounts of cutlery," Bella said, raising her eyebrows at me.

"I wonder if he brought his crossbow?" I taunted her as she muttered profanities, causing me to laugh.

After the adult supervision left, Emmett and Jasper broke out the flasks, the scent of whiskey filling the air as they all took turns sipping from the canteens. Like always, I refused their offers, finding comfort in the fact that if there was a bear attack at least one of us would be in their right mind. To my surprise, Bella refused too, wrapping herself in my arms instead and snuggling into my lap as we watched the fire begin to die, the flames now a smoldering pile of glowing coals.

Alice and Jasper went to walk down by the stream while Emmett and Rose played a game of cribbage at the table, Emmett cursing as Rose pegged her way around the board, her superior math skills giving her the advantage. Bella and I laughed at their exchanges, each of them talking shit as they counted their points and laid their cards.

"You fucking stole my crib dude!" Emmett whined, as Rosalie counted out another twenty point hand. "This game is pure luck, no skill involved whatsoever. I'm fucking done with this game. I'm going to bed." Emmett stormed off to their tent to pout.

Rosalie laughed, "Come on, babe! It's just a game." She left the cards on the table and followed him, ducking into the canvas shelter.

Alice came running up to the circle of chairs, excited and bouncing into the other tent that was for the four of us to share, and dragged out our sleeping bags, her small figure enveloped in blankets. She carried them to the grass, dumping them onto the ground.

"What the hell are you doing?" I asked her, watching her skip back to the tent as Jasper slowly made his way to the site, flicking the remains of his cigarette into the fire pit.

"We're sleeping outside! There's no clouds so I'm sure it won't rain and we've got lots of blankets and shit. We're going to sleep under the stars, the sky our ceiling tonight," Alice said as she continued to get our pillows, adding them to the pile. Bella sat upright in my lap, turning to look at me in excitement, before getting up to help Alice lay out the sleeping bags. I watched them straighten the blankets onto the grass and I sighed as I looked at Jasper, who just shook his head and shrugged. He was confirming what I already knew, that it was futile to argue once Alice got an idea in her head.

"I'm not sleeping on the dirt, dude. I think we have a tarp we can put down first," I conceded, searching our supplies and finding the sheet of black waterproof canvas. I walked over to help Alice and Bella set up our new outside sleeping arrangements. Alice went over to Emmett's tent, shaking the structure and trying to get their attention.

"Emmett, Rose, get your asses out here. We're sleeping under the stars," Alice yelled and continued shaking their tent.

"No, we're not!" I heard Rosalie respond.

"Yes, you are! Come on! Don't make me come in there, you know I'll drag you out here myself." She would too, I've seen her do it before.

Rosalie and Emmett emerged from the tent and Alice cheered, clapping her hands and helping them get their sleeping bags.

Soon we were all lined up on the grass, our sleeping bags spreading in an even arch across the tarp. We each climbed into our separate sleeping bags, bundled in sweatshirts and socks. I tried to get as close to Bella as I could, wanting her in my sleeping bag with me, but it really was starting to get cold. There just wasn't enough room for two in the mummy bag without having to unzip it and I didn't want Bella to freeze. Instead, I brought my arms out of the cover and wrapped them around her, resting my face against hers in the most pitiful cuddle ever. We were surrounded by the sounds of the forest, the predators just now coming to life as we lay down to sleep. Somewhere up the mountain a wolf howled and Bella gasped, sitting up and looking into the dark trees.

"Are you sure we're safe here?" she asked me.

Emmett laughed, a loud, booming sound in the soft rustling of the forest, and I pulled Bella back to my arms.

"Relax Bella, that's just Jake the wolf," Jasper teased.

"Who?" Bella asked, her body tense.

I caught on to the game. "You know, Jake the wolf. Didn't you ever watch that cartoon when you were a kid? The one with the one eyed wolf named Jake?"

"Yeah! Nobody liked him because he smelled bad. I think it was supposed to teach kids about personal hygiene or something," Rosalie chimed in, giggling through her addition.

"That's right! He'd always cry at the moon because he had no friends. That was a great show," Emmett added, sighing in nostalgia.

"I don't think I ever watched that show," Bella cautiously mumbled.

"That's because they're making it up, Bella. They're dicking around with you because they're assholes." Alice, the big ruiner, had to open her big fucking mouth, once again.

"You guys _are_ assholes. I totally thought you were serious," Bella laughed, appreciating the joke as we erupted into laughter. The conversation waned, Emmett busting into the occasional fit of laughtershocks but after a few moments it was quiet.

"Okay, my stargazer, which constellation can you impress me with tonight?" Bella asked me quietly, the others surrounding us already drifting off to sleep. It had to be past midnight now and the excursions of the day had been fucking exhausting, the lull of sleep calling to my aching muscles. But my Bella wanted to talk stars and I never passed up an opportunity to please her, especially with shit that made me look brilliant.

"Well, we talked Ursa Major, right? Opposite of that is a little constellation that looks like a 'W', like a crown." I pointed towards the north star, pointing out the cluster of stars directly opposite the big dipper. "That's Cassiopeia."

"Oh! I've heard of that one! She's a queen right?" Bella asked, turning to face me, her nose pressed against mine, the peppermint on her breath reminding me of the night's earlier events.

"Yeah, an exceptionally beautiful and vain queen. She promised her daughter, Andromeda, to marry Perseus, but then changed her mind. So she got one of Poseidon's sons to break up the wedding, pissing Perseus off. Perseus was one badass dude. He had recently slain Medusa so he used her head to turn everyone at the wedding to stone, including the fair queen, Cassiopeia. Poseidon threw her up into the sky, but Cassiopeia's vanity caused him to put her chair revolving around the North Star, so half the year she has to sit upside down, looking like a damn fool," I grinned at her, kissing her little nose as she snuggled closer to my face.

"So she got what she deserved, right? Even back then people loved to see the beautiful mean queen fail. They got some sick satisfaction in proving the perfect have flaws," Bella said thoughtfully. "And then all you're left with is another statue, another human hardened and devoid of humanity. It's kind of awful."

"I think they just liked to tell people what to do. These were like warnings, lessons to live by, so you wouldn't get yourself into trouble." I closed my eyes, sleep pulling at my lids, and the moment my eyes closed, sleep enveloped me and I succumbed quickly, barely hearing Bella's voice as she mumbled something into the darkness.

…

I could smell her before I even opened my eyes, lavender and smoke, the campfire lingering in her hair, strands tickling my face as I felt a warm body pressed against me. I lingered between dream and reality until the biting chill invaded the inside of my sleeping bag. Bella was staring into my eyes, her hands roaming my body as she silently pulled up the hem of my shirt.

Holy fuck, what was she doing? It took a whole minute for me to realize that she had crawled into my sleeping bag and that she was obviously aroused. The primal need radiated in her eyes as she bit down on her lower lip and pulled my leg between hers, grinding into my thigh and pushing into the bruise left from the paintball. I winced, the pain superseded by the now intense throbbing that was building in my groin.

She curled down slowly to trail her lips along my stomach, licking my skin and moving beneath the waistband of my sweats. Grasping my swelling shaft in her hands, her lips enveloped me as I fully hardened in her mouth. I wanted to cry out but I quickly remembered that we were not alone in the thick of the forest. I looked around, making sure we were not disturbing the others as Bella continued to slide her mouth up and down my cock so slowly, her tongue swirling and flicking as her little hands moved in unison with her mouth. I could hardly breathe, the feeling of her mouth causing me to writhe my hips, and I felt the tingling spreading to my toes and fingertips, wanting to beg out loud for her to go faster.

Instead, she removed her mouth slowly, licking the tip a few more times before pulling off her thick sweatshirt, her pert nipples visible through her thin t-shirt. She crawled up my body to force her tongue into my hungry mouth and I had to have her now, the craving burning in my being and pulsating through my veins. My hands roamed all over her as she clutched at my sides, her short nails digging and tearing into my skin as I forced her shirt up to grab at her breasts, twisting and pulling at her nipples as she groaned into my mouth. I pulled away, frozen, fearing that we were too loud, the anticipation of possibly getting caught fucking hot as hell. I looked at her face and brought my finger to my lips, indicating we needed to be silent. She nodded, her mouth parting as I brought my hands to her hips, pushing down her pants and exposing her bare behind to the elements. She rolled away, her back to me as she pushed her ass against my erection and I fucking almost came right there, all over the ivory flesh of her crease. The pressure exceeding what I was capable of withholding, I paused, trying to regain control.

Bella pulled one of the extra blankets around her legs, tucking the fabric so that she was covered, and brought her knees up to her chest. She reached behind her to grab my dick, bending forward and pulling me into her. Fuck! She was so fucking wet, so consuming, and the fucking warmth flooded over me. This was by far the sexiest thing I'd ever seen, Bella's bare ass and my dick entering into her, the moonlight causing her flawless skin to burn white. I couldn't control myself any longer, I wanted to fuck her, feel myself pulse inside her warm wet flesh.

I pushed into her hard, using my hands to grasp at her hips, my fingers again drilling into her skin. I pulled her back against me, sucking on her neck as she writhed against my body, grinding onto my dick and twisting her hips as I moved my hand beneath her and over her chest to pull at her nipple. I found her hand already there and our hands twisted together, groping both breasts in silent ecstasy as I continued to push into her forcefully. She was panting now, reaching down between her legs to feel herself, to feel me entering her, her fingers touching and fondling, small gasps coming from her mouth. I felt my entire abdomen tense, a tingling in my back, the insurmountable pressure throbbing within me, and I paused, not ready to let go of this feeling yet. Bella continued to push and writhe against me until we heard a rustling of vinyl from beside us. Again, we froze. Alice was moving in her sleeping bag, turning over to face us but still asleep.

I slowly and silently pushed into her again and again, feeling her tense around my cock, pushing and pulling with fervor now. I could feel her hand grasping at my dick, her palm pressing into her clit, and she groaned loudly, unable to stifle the need. I brought my hand up from her hip to cover Bella's mouth, her warm, gasping breath forceful against my fingers. Her teeth dug slightly into my palm and clamped onto the skin as she moved to grab the hand around her mouth, clutching to it as her own hand between her legs moved faster, her fingers grazing the base of my shaft, and with this contact I couldn't hold back any longer. The pressure exceeded, my muscles contracted, and I came hard into Bella, warm and tight, feeling the powerful shock of the orgasm shake in my legs and arms and tingle in my back and stomach, just fucking trembling from the euphoric high as Bella continued to shake against me, the beautiful porcelain skin of her neck flushing and pink.

I didn't even know if she came but eventually she stilled, pulling away and turning back to face me. Pulling her pants back up around her waist, I proceeded to do the same. She wrapped her arms around my neck, kissing my lips softly and slowly and silently, abandoning her separate sleeping bag and pulling the blanket to cover us both instead.

She settled her head into my chest, our legs tangled and twisted in the blankets, and I brought my hand to trail through her hair. Within a matter of moments she was asleep, peaceful and quiet breaths resonating against my chest as she lightly rose and fell, her breathing feeding my very life force and within this lullaby, I found my rest, giving in to the serene and coveted slumber.

…

**A/N**

I have been looking forward to sleeping bag nookie for so long! I love me some great outdoors lovin'!

Joni Songs Referenced:

_I Think I Understand_

_Clouds_

_Ladies of the Canyon_

_Chelsea Morning_

_God Must be a Boogie Man_

Book Referenced:

_The Awakening_ by Kate Chopin- Seriously, one of my favorite books. READ IT!! (If you can actually tear yourself away from fan fiction for a couple days :)


	18. It's Hard to Tell When in the Spell

**Darlings,**

Hello dear readers and new friends! I'm quite overwhelmed by your comments and love for these characters. Thank you so much for engaging in this story with me.

**ilsuocantante**...Thank you my dear for your quite generous rec on The Lazy Yet Discerning Ficster. If you haven't already, you should read her rec, there's a link to it on my profile page, as well as a link to her profile in case you want to read some incredibly delicious stories! I owe you big bb!!

Lovely beta **n7of9**...Don't you love her madly, don't you need her badly? Um, yes and yes! Thank you sweets, for all the time and effort you dedicate to this little fic, we (me and the story) appreciate you so much!

Disclaimer: It's not mine...

**CH 18- _"It's Hard to Tell When You're in the Spell"_**

**BPOV**

_A labyrinth of moss-covered trees surrounds me as I make my way through the green maze. The forest is silent and eerily void of the usual sounds of life, the empty abyss throbbing in my ears and pressing against my head with agonizing pressure. I rush frantically through the dark, overgrown brush, my clothing catching on the thick branches, bark and thorns scraping at my skin causing small abrasions to glow red in the darkness. I am alone, solitary, searching, wandering through the forest. The path vanishes, my trail obsolete as I blindly navigate through the growth, my feet failing to find traction and slipping in the moist dirt. I can't keep my feet beneath me, can't stand on my own legs, but I have to keep searching or I am lost, everything about my life gone and vacant. I keep moving faster and faster, spiraling through the darkness, careening through the silence, trying to figure out what is missing. What am I searching for? Suddenly, like a black veil blanketing my soul in darkness, I realize there's nothing; I have nothing, I am nothing. I fall, my hands plunging into the wet leaf trodden ground, dirt spraying into my face, soil and clay sticking to my hands and caking into my clothing. I fall, hopeless and alone..._

Startled and jolting awake, my heart pounding in my chest and a film of sweat dewing on my forehead and chest, I found myself submerged in a sea of blankets and warmth, Edward's arm draped across my waist and his warm breath tickling my hair. I clutched onto him, wrapped my arms around him and burrowed my face into his chest and inhaled, sweet honey warmth flooding my senses, making sure he was real, that this was real. I felt him breathe, rising and falling with him, my body on top of his, sharing the rhythmic pulse and just reveling in the beauty and passion of what we shared in the quiet stillness of the night.

Fatigue had crept up on me as I snuggled into my sleeping bag, the down and vinyl a baneful barrier between me and Edward. Between the hiking, the puking and the crying, I was exhausted, falling into a deep, dreamless sleep. I had awoken a few short hours later freezing my ass off and desperate to be close to Edward, wanting to wrap myself around him just to feel his comfort. I had crawled into his sleeping bag, the small space so warm and soothing and permeating with his scent. My eyes drank in every bit of sleeping Edward, so vulnerable and peaceful, the features of his face relaxed and just sweet and beautiful and pure, the quiet troubled expression he always carried with him completely removed as he lingered in his dreamy trance. His breath was even and pulsing, the skin of his lower stomach exposed and inciting my more covetous nature.

I kissed his still lips, not really trying to wake him but unable to control the need to feel him, to touch every inch of his lovely soul. But my roaming hands had a mind of their own, pulling up his shirt to trace the contoured lines of his stomach, and soon Edward was awake and colliding with me, pulling me onto him as we made love, the quiet stillness of the open night sky privy to our physical display. I fell asleep in his arms, completely content with the universe and my lady karma, knowing in that moment of silent perfection that I was exactly where I should be.

This dream had gone and fucked that all to hell, reminding me of my shortcomings, that I wasn't good enough for Edward, that I might never be and he might leave me because of it, my own subconscious plotting my demise. What the fuck is wrong with my brain? Why couldn't it just let me be happy and content? I found myself spiraling into deep contemplative thoughts about my own thinking and the perceptions that had led me to the place I dwelt, unable to go back to sleep and just fucking the shit out of my own mind in a depraved session of mental masturbation as I continued to rise and fall on Edward's chest, the robins and jays welcoming the dawn from their high sanctuary while my own thoughts became further muddled the more I tried to make sense of them.

I searched my mind, recalling those first feelings of deprecation that had led to the purging and how I had let it take control. It had started as a way to forget him; my father, my past life, my comfortable existence. It was a replacement for the gaping wound I had felt in my chest, the pain of hunger nothing compared to the pain of indifference. I had spent my first five years in Phoenix wondering when he was going to call. With every birthday or Christmas I'd wait for a card, a note, anything that demonstrated that he knew I was here, that he remembered me, that I even existed. Every year I was met with disappointment, rejection, unanswered questions, conclusions I had drawn myself, none of it healthy to my very confused and very young brain. I spent those years trying to figure out what I had done wrong, what didn't he like about me, what I could have done better. Was I too noisy when he came home from work? Maybe I should have kept my room cleaner. Maybe I should have gotten better grades in school. Theory after theory ran through my awareness, all trying to understand what had changed and how I could get it to change back.

The last two years were spent trying to forget. I wanted to forget his tobacco smell and forget his mustached face, but most of all I wanted to forget his food, his comfort, the way he had provided care. I wanted control of this fucked up situation I had been forced into. I didn't want to feel that ache in my chest anymore. Purging, abstaining from food, these disorders provided that for me. These were the answers I had created for myself.

I had been here since March, living with him every day, the man who could give me all the answers I had ever wanted, and I was no closer to knowing the truth than the ten year old little girl who was pulled from her comfy bed in the middle of the night in the darkness seven years ago.

And now there is this, Edward's body rolling beneath me, the sound of his steady heart beating against my ear at his chest. This heartbeat pulsated for me, throbbed beneath flesh and bone to bring me different answers, negating the answers which I had created to destroy myself and replacing them with the will to rebuild, evident in the way Edward had cared for me, even at my very lowest and most despicable form, curled and twisted in desolate relief.

By the time the others started to stir the sun was creeping through the trees, beginning to warm the earth beneath us. A fine sheen of dew had settled on the camp, bathing the greenery in glistening beads that glittered like diamonds in the early morning light. A few drops had collected on Edward's exposed arm, his sleeve pushed up around his elbow, causing the light to dance and cast an iridescent sparkle across his skin, the perfect crystallized spheres holding their shape on his arm. It was breathtaking and I found myself wondering what beauty I would behold if dew rested on Edward's muscled shoulders and the contours of his stomach and chest, decorating the swirls of soft hair just above his waistband, the transparent liquid reflecting the light and causing him to sparkle all over. A light brisk breeze drifted through the clearing, whispering through the tall grass and ruffling my hair, sending a light chill across my bare arms. I sat up searching for my sweatshirt when I noticed Alice was awake, her eyes flickering to my empty sleeping bag as her lips curled into a knowing grin. Finally finding my sweatshirt, the thick cotton slightly damp and cool, I pulled the fabric over my head, unable to suppress a grin back at her as I curled into Edward's side. She rolled back to her side, snuggling against Jasper and drifting off to sleep.

Edward had felt me stir and, still entrenched in slumber, dreamily reached over to run his fingers through my hair a few times before resting his hand on his chest close to my face. I noticed a smeared blur of purple and red on the inside of his palm and directly below his thumb as he had laid his hand down gingerly so as not to disturb the mark. I, however, sat up directly, absolutely positive I knew when that crime had taken place and I was even surer that I was the guilty party who had inflicted such a mark. I slowly lifted his hand to inspect the wound. A faint red blend of skin and blood tinged around the outer edges of a small crescent on the fleshy thick part of his palm, teeth marks bruised into his hand, a scab already formed on the broken skin.

I brought his hand close to my face, inspecting the tiny details of the mark. I slid my thumb over it trying to see if it would disappear but there it was, glowing vibrant red, a physical manifestation of my lack of control, fashioned in a fit of lovely and euphoric passion. I couldn't regret the mark because it symbolized such pleasure, such intensity in our union, and to be honest I felt a little satisfied in knowing that I had been the one to mark him, my claim on him swelling on his palm. But I would be lying if I said I wasn't a little freaked out by this, that Edward would let me mutilate him this way and that I would take advantage of his selflessness. I had done so unknowingly, of course, but still, that I was even capable of hurting him and that my subconscious had allowed it was messing with my self perceptions.

I was still pondering the mark when the hand I was holding started to flex. I looked up to find Edward smiling, hazy sleep still thick in his eyes. Leaving his scarred hand in mine, he brought his other hand to tangle in his hair, inhaling deeply and scratching at his messy splay of reds and browns. He brought his hand to wrap around me, pulling me into his sanctified embrace, blurring and wiping away any of the mind fuckery I had been previously consumed by as I scooted up to nuzzle my face into the warmth of his neck, breathing into the space and instinctually placing little kisses on his skin. His hand moved to trail the length of my spine, occasionally tangling in the strays of my messy hair, and I could have laid there forever, the tingling of my scalp and back begging each of my muscles to melt as I collapsed my weight onto him.

"Morning," Edward whispered lazily, his velvety voice husky in the morning quiet. I felt his lips against my forehead, his nose pressed against the skin. I tilted my head and brought my mouth to his and his lips pursed, fearing the dreaded morning breath, I'm sure, but I didn't care. I wanted to wake up like this every day, every morning being able to wrap my arms around him, finding instant relief and calm, every morning just for us. Morning breath seemed awfully insignificant in comparison to these more pressing concerns. _"Woke up, it was a Chelsea morning…"_

I smiled into his kiss at this realization and he pulled back, squinting his lucid green eyes, his pupils shying in the sunlight and making room for the jade iridescence.

"What are you grinning at?" Edward asked, his own lips smiling in accordance with mine.

"You. This," I said quietly, relishing in the sweet ease of this early morning exchange. I knew our time together like this was limited, the swishing of vinyl restlessness surrounding us informing me that we would soon be interrupted with laughing comments and grumbles of early morning risers.

Sensing we only had a few moments left, I moved my fingers to twist into the waves at the base of his neck, pulling his mouth to mine again, a renewed fervor in the press. I slipped my tongue across his lips, begging for entrance, his tongue pulling mine into his mouth, the swirling and pulsing of our mouths an undulating swell of heat and panting breaths. His hand slid under my sweatshirt, pressing firm against my back and sliding up to grip my shoulder, his fingers digging into the curve of my neck.

I shifted to straddle his lap and felt him already hard beneath my pajama bottoms, the layers of material shifting and pulling as I moved my hips to create the friction that my body was craving. Heat pulsated between my thighs as Edward ghosted his hand across my side to fondle my breast, his hand cupping the fleshy mound while his fingers twisted and pulled at my nipple. Fuck, his hands felt so right against my body, the contact satiating the ever present desire I had for him, sucking him into my gravity and yearning to absorb every particle of him.

We heard the unzipping of a sleeping bag. I wasn't sure where it came from so I slowly slinked off of Edward's lap, situating myself into my earlier position at his side. He was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling quickly as he turned to meet my eyes, a coy smile on his flush lips.

Jasper stood up, running his hands through his hair and yawning. He stumbled over towards the ravine and proceeded to piss under the sanctuary of a tree. I stifled a giggle, Edward trailing his thumb across my lips as I flicked my tongue out to lick the tip of his finger. His hand cradled my face as he slowly pressed his lips to mine. I clutched at his waist, my hand slipping beneath his sweatpants and folding my fingers around his hard cock. He was so warm and smooth in my hand and I offered him slow caresses, pausing as we heard Jasper walking back over towards the camp. I don't know why, but this sneaky shit was so fucking hot, an incredible turn-on, and I could feel my own excitement dampening my panties.

I continued to noiselessly and so very slowly pull on Edward's dick, pumping and twisting and running my fingers to press into every crease I could feel, a small bit of fluid oozing onto my hand. I wanted that bit of fluid on my tongue so I brought my hand to my mouth, licking my skin and tasting Edward as he bent his head to mine, a low "fuck" slithering from his lips.

Just then we heard a loud groan from beside us. Emmett had rolled over noisily, grumbling and moaning, multiple complaints of uncomfortable sleep spewing in sarcastic chides as Rosalie sat up and fixed her hair, tying it back with an elastic band. Alice was also stirring, stretching and running her hands through her poufs of black hair as Jasper sat at the table, lighting a cigarette. Alice jumped up to join him and I grinned at Edward, a pained expression upon his face as I shifted my leg to rub against his erection. He pushed me away, groaning and turning away from me, and I couldn't help but laugh out loud at his predicament.

"What's so funny?" Emmett asked, his face muddled in confusion as Rosalie neatly folded her sleeping bag and threw it in their tent. This just caused me to giggle further. Edward took his pillow and threw it at me causing me to lose my balance, falling over and erupting into hysterical laughter.

"Edward had a funny dream, that's all," I laughed, moving to wrap my arms around Edward who had now submerged himself in his sleeping bag.

I poked my head under the sleeping bag, finding Edward's face in the dark, hot hiding place.

"Hi," I whispered, kissing his nose softly.

"Hey," he responded, a smile playing on his lips.

"How's your…um, situation?" I asked him, running my fingers through his soft coppery hair.

"I'll be fine in a minute," he rolled his eyes.

"I'm sorry about that," I apologized.

"I'm not," Edward grinned, pressing his lips to mine under the darkness of the blanket, slow, languid kisses, his breath tickling my cheeks and causing me to flush with warmth.

"Okay, you have to go. Otherwise I'm going to be under this blanket all fucking day." I kissed him again, a quiet peck on the cheek, and left him to harness his rampant hormones.

There was already a fire crackling in the pit. Jasper and Emmett had walked down the hill to retrieve the food totes and ice chests and were carrying them back up to the campsite as Alice grabbed a metal teapot from the supplies. They soon had breakfast cooking, the steam rising from the pot as the water boiled for oatmeal. We opened the instant packets and dumped them into small paper bowls, adding the water to hydrate the oats.

Edward joined us soon after, kissing my cheek and mixing his own bowl of oatmeal as we sat by the early morning fire. I brushed my teeth and washed my face by the ravine, the melted mountain snow freezing my face. The boys wanted to take their paintball guns into the forest again; their need to mercilessly shoot each other with balls filled with paint apparently had not been fulfilled. They left soon after rolling up the sleeping bags, this time in full paintball gear; helmets, masks, gloves, pants, and long-sleeved shirts to minimize the sting.

As soon as they left, I walked far from the camp to pee, just praying my limited balancing skills wouldn't fail me. When I returned, Rosalie and Alice were sitting around the fire, deep in conversation, their faces stressed and creased. Obviously, they were talking about something serious.

"I told him he should move in with us, Carlisle already said it would be fine. With Emmett moving out, we'd totally have the space. But you know your brother, he doesn't want a handout, wants to do everything on his own," Alice was saying as I walked up to the campsite, taking a seat beside her. "He said if he stays at home he'll only have to put off school for a year, but if he moves out it'll be longer because he won't be able to save the cash he makes at the store, he'd have to pay bills and shit."

"Well, I'm just glad I'm leaving. They're going to end up killing each other. Ever since your little stint at the graduation party they've been fighting like crazy. My mother threatens to disown him every day, strip him of his inheritance. But it's like he just doesn't give a fuck anymore. He used to pretend, tell them what they wanted to hear, but now he doesn't even pretend. He just tells them to fuck off if they say anything to him," Rose added.

"I know, but somebody had to say something. What they do to him, to both of you, it is seriously fucked up," Alice sighed. They were quiet a moment, watching the flames lick at the side of the metal ring of the fire pit. Jasper had been at the Cullens' practically every day over the last two weeks, ever since Alice called his parents 'assholes' in front of everybody at the graduation party. I guess his parents told him he had to break things off with Alice and, of course, he told them to go fuck themselves, and now they were in the middle of a huge family battle royale. I wasn't sure about the details but Jasper hadn't been home much, only to get some clothes and stuff. He'd even spent the night at the Cullens' a couple times, Alice camping out on the couch with him downstairs.

"I know Alice, but college is expensive and there's no fucking way I'm going to live the rest of my life in that hellhole they call a home. I know it sounds completely fucked, but if Jasper would just try to appease them, play their little game, money wouldn't be an issue. And then, after he has more of a financial foothold, then he can go do whatever the fuck he wants. It's a means to an end, an end that's going to get me the fuck away from them." Alice didn't respond, her serene features burdened with frustration.

"Besides, I don't really give a fuck about college anyway. I'm only going because I want to be where Emmett is. It doesn't really matter what I study," Rosalie added.

"That's bullshit and you know it. But whatever, do what they want Rose, but you'll never get away from them, not really. It'll always be something, whether it's college or a big fancy wedding or your dream house, it'll always be too easy to compromise yourself, indulge in your 'means to an end'. Sure, you'll have your 'end', but shit, Rose, isn't it the means that matters most?" Alice retorted. Rosalie was shocked, her mouth gaping in stunned silence. Shit, this was not going to be pretty. Whatever passive and resigned Rose I'd seen at that graduation dinner was long gone now. This Rose looked like she wanted to literally rip Alice's head off.

"You don't know what the fuck you're talking about, Alice. You're just a little girl, living in your idealistic, pot-induced haze of rebellion and nonconformity. This is what adults do, they compromise, because something, anything is better than this fucking status quo. When you grow up you'll discover it's not all about ideals. Then again, maybe you want to spend your life festering in know-it-all self-righteousness." Rosalie stood up and stalked off towards the ravine, her long blond ponytail swinging with her furious gait.

I looked at Alice, her green eyes blinking in keen contemplation as she gazed into the morning fire still smoldering in the pit. I didn't know what to say. I could understand both their viewpoints. What Alice said was true, Rose would never break free from her parents if she kept allowing them to have that control, even if she benefited from it. But I could see why Rosalie chose to stay in her current circumstances. I knew all about needing an 'end' and using any means to get there, even if it was self-destructive and compromised my sense of self. I knew all about the desperation of feeling helpless, like there's no choice left but the fucked up one in front of you.

After a few minutes of silence, Alice finally spoke. "She's right. I am just a kid and I am a know-it-all. But this isn't about me, you know? Jasper's going through some real shit here. I mean, sure, they're his parents, but he's never had a strong bond with them. They gave up on him and never felt a moment's remorse. And now he's finally doing something constructive about it, walking away without looking back, searching for a positive climate, and they're just fucking pissed that the climate includes me."

"Alice, you know that's not really why they're upset. They're pissed off that dangling their wads of cash in front of him doesn't work anymore. They're not even worried about their son, they're worried about the loss of control," I said.

"I know. And I know what Rose is thinking, that if she doesn't do what they say, they won't pay for her to go to school or anything else for the matter. I get it. Doesn't make it right, though." Alice gave a frustrated sigh while smoothing her dark hair back, only for it to poof right back up again. "It's just that Rose was really nice to me when we first moved here. She was Emmett's friend then and she kind of took me under her wing, so to speak. Now she's selling herself short and I just can't stand to see her give in to what those dipshits want. It just makes me sick."

Alice wiped her cheek with the back of her hand, leaving a smudge across her face. I knew these tears weren't really from this argument but in response to the fact that the people she loved were hurting. Alice's sensitivity always astounded me, the fact that she could feel so passionately about things and also have the conviction to always speak her mind, even if what she said wasn't exactly what you wanted to hear.

Rosalie returned about an hour later. We had started a game of dominoes and Alice had just pulled a kettle of boiling water from the fire. She poured it into a carafe, allowing the grounds to seep before pushing them to the bottom, straining the liquid and leaving a thick, black coffee. The heady, bitter smell of the grounds wafted through the campsite, overpowering the distinct scents of the forest.

Rosalie took a seat at the plastic picnic table, placing herself across from me. Alice poured a cup of the coffee, adding some powdered creamer and sugar to the mug, and sat the cup in front of her. That was it. Argument over. There were no apologies, no further explanations. They had both articulated their views earlier and now it was done with. I found this interaction refreshing, free of the rehashing and drawn out drama that makes arguments so unbearable.

We continued to play dominoes, the conversation hovering in superficiality, broken only by the crunching of leaves and snapping of twigs that brought forth three paint splattered boys from the forest, their boisterous jeering interrupting the quiet stillness of the clearing. Carlisle and Esme would be here soon to pick us up so we busied ourselves in breaking down the camp and packing the supplies into piles for easy loading.

Tired from my restless sleep, I lost myself in quiet thought, thankful we weren't going to hike back through the forest and longing for the soothing spray of a hot shower. It was with such ease that we worked together to clean up the camp, removing any trace of human from forest, and when we were all cleaned up and the site was vacant and bare, I felt a sense of longing and sadness lulling over me - sadness for the end of a very binding trip, having affixed myself not only to Edward, but now to his family as well.

In Phoenix I was always alone. I came home from school to an empty house. I put myself to bed while Renee smoked her weed and had her drink on the porch. I made myself dinner when Renee taught the late class. I'd always wished for a family, mourning the loss of my father figure to the point of detriment. With Edward at the helm and surrounded by real brothers and sisters, complete with bickering and hair braiding and wrestling, this was just everything I'd always imagined my family would look like. I never would have imagined that when I accidentally tripped and fell into a beautiful boy at the market that my long lost family would be what I stumbled upon.

…

When I got home, Charlie was parked in front of the television, tuned into a baseball game and finishing one of the heart healthy dinners Edward and I had made for him. I mumbled a hello, answered a few of his questions about the trip, and then submerged myself in the lovely spray of the hot shower, the sound of the steady stream against the shower curtain soothing to my tired brain. The water pooled around my sore and blistered feet, momentarily stinging the broken skin but then easing the burn of the abrasions.

I lathered my hair with shampoo, the warm water saturating the strands and causing them to hang heavy down my back. Edward was going to be arriving shortly and I was going to give him his birthday present. I had such a hard time trying to think of a gift for Edward, trying to find something he didn't already have, something that was indicative of the love and gratitude that consumed my every thought and decision. It was a daunting task, finding a material object worthy of the admiration I found blooming in my lonely little soul, and my dwindling funds seriously limited my options.

I wished that I could offer him something less tangible, something I know he needed but didn't think himself worthy enough to ask. He was still fearful of the disease, I could sense his hesitation in our discussions of the future. We really hadn't discussed it, not in a reality sense, just quiet declarations of unfaltering love as we laid bare in twisted sheets. I knew I wanted Edward forever, I didn't see any point to an existence without him. When I think of my life before him it hardly seemed a life at all, and to go back to that was unimaginable, an unfathomable thought that brought forth my inner drama queen. I could actually see her quoting Shakespeare and shit, a dagger piercing her chest in wild declarations of 'life with Edward or no life at all'.

Then again, I was preparing myself for the worst. I was constantly keeping myself in the mindset that at any given point in time Edward would realize that I'm too much work, that I'm not worth the struggle, and that he would leave me. I had to think of this, I had to take some precaution, my self-preserving nature unable to give me full release. I guarded my heart like a lioness guarding her cub, letting it wander and play a while but ready to defend it at the first threat of danger. I wanted so desperately to fully relinquish myself, body and soul, to Edward, but I still lingered in that room of self-doubt, opening every window to let him in but unable to fully leave that mindset.

Both of us relished in our self-inflicted prisons, yet we managed to find space to let each other in, to find comfort in the fact that while solitary within our cell walls, we at least were together in the struggle, and I would struggle with Edward for as long as I could, no matter what the cost.

This realization had prompted me to spend the remainder of my cash on Edward's present, the chef's coat and pants required by the Italian Culinary Academy. While a small gesture in actuality, the implication was the real gift. I knew this school was Edward's dream but when he talked about it he was ambiguous, always a "we'll see" or "I probably won't even get in." I knew this was for my benefit. Edward was afraid to leave me, afraid I would slither back into that pattern of abstaining and purging if he wasn't here. He'd never actually put words to this concern but it was evident in the way he watched me eat, sometimes forgetting to eat himself so that he wouldn't miss any of my cues or signals of distress. It was obvious in the meals that he prepared, making sure everything was always vegetarian or foods I had commented on as favorites. When he greeted me in the evenings he always looked wary, prepared to hear the worst, to the point now that I had thought about just giving him a 'yay' or 'nay' when he walked through the door so that I could ease his apprehension in having to ask. This was no fault of Edward's but simply the nature of the beast, the very reaction I had feared but had accepted as my fate when I accepted the love I feel for Edward.

Edward was fucking insane if he thought I was going to sit back and let him give up his dream because of me and my fucking issues. But I knew he wouldn't agree to leave me behind in Forks. Charlie hardly needed my help anymore and Renee had never needed me. I had nothing tying me to Forks, a free bird ready to nest anywhere I pleased, and I wanted to nest in New York, with Edward. I hadn't figured out all the financial shit yet, but we could make it work. I didn't care if I had to work three jobs or twenty hours a day, I would _make_ it work. The decision was simple; I'd go with him if he'd have me.

Edward would never ask this of me, to give up college and my quasi-parents. I am prepared for him to argue, but I am also abnormally stubborn and I know that this is what I want and I won't take no for an answer.

This is why I decided to present the idea to Edward as a gift. He couldn't say no to a gift, could he? It's common courtesy to accept a gift unconditionally, right? I was hoping that if I presented it to him in this way he would see that this was something I wanted to give him, something I wanted to do for us, so that I could be there with him when he achieved his goals and so that he wouldn't have to worry about leaving me here to fend for myself. It was the only solution that made sense.

Edward arrived at my house a little after eleven thirty. Charlie was asleep on the couch again, wrapped in the afghan and bathing in the soft glow of the television, Letterman's top ten list blaring from the set. Just like always I watched from my bedroom window, waiting to see his headlights illuminate the street and then, on their signal, I crept down the stairs to let him into the house and pulled him silently up to my room. Once behind the closed door he enveloped me in a warm embrace, wrapping his arms around my waist and nuzzling his face into the crook of my neck. He inhaled deeply, his lips barely grazing the skin there and causing goosebumps to scatter across my shoulders and down my spine.

Edward always smelled so good, the smell of warm bread emanating from him today, the fresh and organic smell of yeast and flour on his fingers as he brought them to touch my cheek. I had only been away from him half a dozen hours and yet I longed for the reunion. He gently cradled my face as I leaned in to press my lips to his, tasting his sweet honey breath on his mouth. I flooded over at once with ease and comfort, the familiar pull of his tongue languidly sliding across my lip as I flicked my tongue out to meet his.

"Hey," he sighed into my cheek. His gentle lips curled into a smile and his jade eyes still managed to sparkle even in the dim light of my small room.

"Hi," I whispered, licking my lips, anxious to taste him again.

"How's Charlie? Still sleeping downstairs, huh?" Edward flopped down on my bed, bouncing slightly and rubbing his eyes with his hands. I curled into his side to rest my head on his chest, finding his heartbeat, the pulsing rhythm seeming to boom in the quiet of the house.

"Yeah, I think his room reminds him of the surgery or something. He hasn't slept in there in forever." I cringed remembering my first weeks here and how miserable Charlie had been trapped in that room.

"Well, I'm fucking stoked he sleeps that far away from your bedroom. He'd kick my ass if he knew what I was doing to his daughter in here," Edward smirked, running his smooth fingers underneath the hem of my tank top with grazes over my stomach before wrapping them around my hip and pulling me towards him. His lips beckoned mine into a slow sucking kiss, pulling my bottom lip between his own. It was easy to get lost in Edward's embraces, the pull of his lips so inviting, but I was reminded that I had a purpose here tonight.

"Hold on," I said, getting up from the bed and getting his package from my closet. "I got you a present." I sat back down on the bed, holding out the package for Edward to take.

"Bella, you got me a present? The camping trip was supposed to be my present." Edward looked truly perplexed, like the thought of me getting him a present had never crossed his mind.

"Open it, open it!" I shook the package at him, shifting to sit on my knees and just nervous as all fuck as to how Edward was going to receive what I was going to tell him. He grinned, taking the package from my hands and ripping into the blue metallic paper. I watched as he ran his fingers across the material, reading the insignia embroidered into the stiff cotton. He unfolded the chef's coat and held it up to look at it.

"What…where…how did you get this?" Edward finally choked out.

"I ordered it," I answered. Edward didn't speak, he just kept smoothing his fingers over the threads of the embroidery, occasionally tracing the black lettering. I swallowed hard, a huge lump suddenly materializing in my throat. I was begging for courage, trying to force the air between my teeth and tongue to form the words I wanted to say.

"Bella, I-" Edward started, but I knew I had to speak before he could make another excuse and before I lost my nerve.

"Look, you have to go. You have to, Edward. You have such passion for this, it's your dream, your life. You can't just give up on that," I blurted out frantically, rushing through the words and stuttering a little in the process.

Edward pursed his pretty lips, trying to make his explanation not about me, I knew it. His mind was searching for a way to dispute me without putting blame on my eating disorder but I knew that was what was holding him back, that I was holding him back.

"I might not even get in, you know. You have to submit a resume and shit with your application and I don't have one fucking thing I could put on a resume." Edward laid the shirt on the bed.

"Of course you do. You have those culinary classes you went to and you catered a graduation party for the son of the chief of surgery. I'm sure you could get Carlisle to write a letter or something," I countered, knowing full well this was just an excuse. These places would accept anyone as long as there was room and you had the cash.

"It's pretty expensive, though. I think the whole program is like forty thousand dollars or something fucking ridiculous like that. I have some money, um, that my mom had put into an account for us, for college. But it's not nearly enough and I have to split it with Alice," Edward said, looking at this hands in his lap. I could tell he was uncomfortable talking about his mother, the thought of her money a reminder that she was here once, alive and planning for the future of her children.

"You could apply for loans, scholarships, grants. You still have time if you apply now and I know you would qualify for something." I knew there were all kinds of people dying to give cash to kids like Edward. I mean, he was an orphan with a 4.0 GPA for Christ's sake, there had to be _something_ out there for him.

"What are you going to do?" Edward looked up at me, a struggle laced with uncertainty behind his lashes.

"Um, see I have this plan. Charlie doesn't need me anymore and Renee's, well, useless. I want to go with you, to New York, and then maybe to Italy, and then, um, you know, happily ever after," I said quietly, not able to meet his eyes for fear of the rejection I might find hidden there.

Edward was quiet, thinking and calculating his response. The anticipation was killing me, and I wanted to scream at him to say something, anything. But I just waited, letting the idea permeate and seep into his consciousness.

"I would want nothing more than for you to go with me, to share this with you. But what will you do? Will you go to school too? Don't you want to go to college? Don't you have a dream for the future?" Edward asked quietly.

"Edward, you kinda are my dream for the future," I mumbled, blushing pink in saying the words out loud. I didn't give a shit about college or a career or whatever. I just wanted to be with Edward, I didn't care where or under what circumstances. That was the only future I could see. _"Cats and babies round her feet, and all are fat and none are thin…"_

Edward slowly slipped his hand into mine, tranquility in his touch, his fingers sliding across my own and twining and twisting again and again, and I felt his appreciation in this small gesture.

"I know, Bella. But I can't let you give up everything for me, for what I want. I can't ask you to do that." Edward spoke in a quiet, pained voice, closing his eyes as he continued to twist his fingers with mine.

"You didn't ask me to do anything. This is my choice, it's what I want, the only thing I want. I don't give a fuck about college. I could find a job doing something. I know a lot about books, I could work in a book store or a library or both, anything. I don't even care." I gripped Edward's hand in mine feeling the scabbed skin of my mark scratch against my palm. I forced my conviction into my touch, wishing I could somehow transfer my thoughts to him so he would believe me.

"Bella, you don't understand. When my mother married my father, she gave up everything for him, for his dream, for his career, for his disease. It was all about him and what he needed. And he destroyed her, Bella." Edward paused and I knew where this was heading.

"Edward, you're not going to destroy me," I said desperately.

"Bella, please, I'm not being irrational here. I'm being realistic, please just listen. This is a genetic disease. There's a chance I could be just like my father, a very real chance. I don't want you to feel…obligated, to stay with me if that happens." I tried to interrupt, to argue, but he responded sharply.

"Just listen!" he said, pleading for me to shut the fuck up. I nodded an apology as he took a deep breath and continued to explain.

"My mother didn't have anything else. She was brilliant, you know, and beautiful, and she could have done anything with her life but she chose him, invested everything in him. I don't know, maybe if she would have had options, things would have been different. Maybe she would have left him or at least seen him for what he was and not this idealistic image she carried with her."

Edward quieted, and I could almost see the memories dancing around his head, his consciousness hovering between the anguish of his stolen family and irritation for the fact that it could have been prevented.

"You want me to have options? I don't understand, Edward," I responded truthfully.

Edward sighed. "I just want you to be safe and happy. You should have something that is wholly yours, besides me, that you could devote yourself to, just in case."

"Just in case what? Just in case you go crazy? You think I'm just going to be able to get over it by submersing myself in a fucking hobby? Soothe myself with fucking scrapbooking or some shit?" What the hell? I would be devastated, did he really think a hobby would make it all better?

"No! Not a hobby necessarily, a career, a degree, or what you would have been planning for had you never come to Forks, had you never met me, something else that makes you happy," Edward tried to clarify. He flopped back down on the bed, his hands tangled in his hair as he closed his eyes, sighing in frustration.

I tried to objectively think about what Edward was trying to explain. The threat of his schizophrenia was minimal, but yes, it was still a threat and it always would be. Edward wanted me to be safe and happy, he wanted me to have a future if his was cut short. I could understand that, and he thinks that the fact that his mother didn't was the reason she stuck around, even though I knew that was total bullshit. Edward's mother stuck around because she loved his father and life without him was more unbearable than life with the diseased him, an affirmation not far from my own.

What would I have been planning if I would have stayed in Phoenix? I would have moved to Jacksonville with my mom, probably continuing the same pattern of behavior, maybe enrolled in a junior college, because that seems to be the thing to do after high school. There was no future for me there.

"Edward," I said, climbing on top of him and straddling his lap. He opened his eyes, the frustration still evident in the green, and moved his hands to rest on my thighs, gentle in his touch.

"I think I understand what you're trying to say, and I know you're scared, but whatever happens we'll deal with it, together. Relationships are give and take, right? And I feel like it's my turn to give. Please, Edward, let me do this," I pleaded, my hands on his chest clutching at his shirt.

His hands moved up my legs to rest on my hips, tiny shivers of anticipatory electricity radiating from his graze. "You know I can't refuse you when you plead with me like this." His fingers gripped my hips, strong fingers digging into my flesh.

"Then don't refuse," I whispered, bending to touch my lips to his, transferring my plea, my desperation, through this kiss, my tongue doing the pleading as I massaged my way into his mouth. Edward moved his hands over my ass, pulling at the cotton fabric of my sleep shorts.

I leaned back, Edward groaning as I pressed against his lap. "Fuck Bella!" he muttered. He sighed, looking into my expectant face. "If I go to New York I want you to come with me but I want you to take some college classes while we're there. I'm not going to let you waste all that spectacular logic in a book store. That's the deal, take it or leave it."

"We won't be able to afford rent and college classes. That's highly unfeasible," I replied. It's not that I was opposed to going to college, I just couldn't see how we would be able to afford to do both.

"Get a scholarship, a loan, a grant," he said, quoting my earlier statement as I gave him what I could only describe as a look of pure annoyance. "Look, we have a whole school year to figure it out. We don't have to decide right now."

"You do. You have to start getting letters of recommendation and put together your resume, and the school fills up quick so you have to get your application in early," I pointed out.

"Okay, okay. I'll work on it," he smiled from beneath me. I knew this was going to work. It had to, it was the only option that could work, that made sense for both of us. Just the thought of moving to New York with Edward made me giddy as all sin. We could have our own apartment, wake up together in our own bed, naked and tangled in cotton sheets. Edward would cook breakfast and we would spend lazy Sunday afternoons lounging on the couch, watching old movies on television, complete with commercials and everything. Excitement bubbled inside of me at this prospect and at Edward's acceptance of the idea. Sure, he had his condition, but like he said, we had a whole year to iron things out. The point was that Edward wanted me with him and we were entwined and twisted in this journey together. _"__And you could complete me, I'd complete you…"_

…

"Oh! These porcelain and chrome ones are so pretty. It looks like it belongs in a spa or something." Alice had picked up the white toothbrush holder, the shiny detailing glinting under the florescent lights of the swanky home décor store we were currently invading. Alice turned over the holder, looking at the price tag affixed to the base. "Holy fucking shit! It's not that pretty. That's extortion." She placed the fixture back on the shelf and I smiled at my thrift store friend.

Rosalie had asked us to drive into Port Angeles with her to pick up some items for her new apartment. She was going to be moving in about two weeks, arriving in Pullman a month before school started at the beginning of September to give herself adequate time to adjust to the change of living on her own. Emmett would be moving on campus soon and I thought it kind of wasteful for them to be spending money on two forms of housing when it was obvious they'd be staying together. I will be shocked as all hell if Emmett actually ever sleeps in his dorm room.

We waited by a display of kitchen gadgets as Rose stood in line, purchasing some over-priced fluffy pink towels for her bathroom, and then we were going to this little Italian restaurant for lunch. I hadn't actually been to a restaurant since arriving in Forks and I was slightly nervous about the whole ordeal. When someone else makes your food you have literally no control over what goes into the dish. Even when you order a vegetarian meal you have no clue what that dude behind the door put in your food. This made me uneasy, my stomach actually cramping now at the thought, especially considering the hotdog failure I experienced last month. I hadn't tried to eat meat since, too worried of a repeat offense on my stomach.

That had been the last time I had puked, at the camping trip twenty-seven days ago. Twenty-seven days, one day shy of the twenty-eight required for many drug treatment programs. I wondered if this is what drug addicts and alcoholics went through while recovering from their addictions. The difference being that drug addicts could avoid drugs, but it's impossible to avoid food and eating for any real length of time. Believe me, I had tried.

The purging now somewhat at bay, I focused on finding the desire to eat. I still rarely had an appetite, but when I did I filled myself with veggies and whole grains. They were easy on my digestive system and the grains provided the calories needed to sustain my health, to return to a normal weight or whatever. I had no idea what normal meant and I paid no attention to my actual weight, but my clothes fit differently, my hips a little fuller, my cheeks more flush, a slight swell in my breasts now. I liked it, finding a deep satisfaction in the feminine features I found when I looked in the mirror. I was pretty sure Edward liked it too, his hands and mouth gracing those more fuller areas gratuitously and with increased fervor, which I really didn't think was possible.

Rosalie finished paying, signing the slip in great loops and handing the paper to the cashier. She turned to us, folding the receipt and shoving it in the pocket of her black capris. She rolled her eyes and walked towards us, toting a large bag overflowing with terry cloth.

"What a fucking idiot. She couldn't find the tag on one of the towels and wouldn't just ring one of the others. Incompetent moron. Come on, lets go, I'm starving." Rosalie threw on her sunglasses and led us through the heavy glass door.

We were hit with a wave of clammy heat, obscenely adverse to the air conditioned building we had just left. Rosalie walked ahead of us, her curls bouncing as she walked and stopped to look in store windows. Alice hummed beside me, practically skipping down the crowded sidewalk in her sundress and sandals, a delicate headband wrapped around her head. Despite the summer heat I had worn my jeans, but the warmth was causing my tank top to stick to my back. As we walked, my stomach twinged in annoyance and I realized I must be hungry, the pain now more familiar the more I indulged in meals.

It was a quick walk to the little restaurant and Rose walked up to the hostess requesting a table for three. The restaurant was somewhat vacant, the lunch rush over, and we were seated right away at a booth towards the back of the building. I perused the menu looking for vegetarian meals that wouldn't be too rich, staying away from meals saturated in fat or dairy.

I decided on a Mediterranean salad; mixed greens combined with grilled eggplant, asparagus, artichoke hearts, and tossed with a light balsamic vinaigrette.

The waiter brought out some breadsticks and water. He glanced at Rosalie, giving her the infamous head nod and "sup" while placing the glasses on the table. Rosalie looked like she was going to rip his throat out, her sunglasses perched on top of her head and her eyes narrowed in probably the bitchiest sneer I've ever seen, like, ever. It really was an art form, the way Rose pulled off that sneer without looking even the tiniest bit ugly.

"Hey beautiful ladies, how are we doing today?" the waiter asked. He looked like he was our age, maybe a little older, and just reeked of overconfidence. He was handsome, probably real hot shit here in Port Angeles, WA.

"We," Rose indicated the three of us, "are starving. I'll take the chicken cacciatore with no pasta. I'll have a side salad with that instead, dressing on the side. And I'll need two lemon wedges for my water." The waiter blinked a few times, grinning like an idiot, before asking probably the worst question you could ever ask a customer like Rose.

"What was that babe?" the waiter asked, "I was, um, distracted." His eyes flickered to Rose's chest, which was stuffed into a low cut halter. Poor fucking bastard.

"Are you fucking kidding me? You didn't get any of that? Look dipshit, all you have to do is write down our order, take it to your buddy in the back, and then bring us our food. Do you think you can handle that?" Rosalie asked through clenched teeth. "And if I find one fucking thing wrong with my order, I will personally fuck your shit up."

She meant it too. She literally looked like she wanted to kick his ass.

"Fuck! What is with people today?" Rosalie took a drink of her water. This was the Rose I'd grown to fear but rarely saw. She'd always been a cold hearted bitch to me, but it was always in a passive aggressive, insult-my-intelligence-and-make-me-feel-like-an-idiot kind of way, not the outright insults she was throwing today. Maybe she didn't hate me as much as I thought she did. Or maybe she just hated everyone else so much more. Whatever the case, I was glad I wasn't on the receiving end of her wrath today.

The waiter just stood there, unsure of what to say and looking like a damned fool, so Alice and I quickly gave our orders, smiling pitifully at him as he walked away.

"Alright, what the fuck is your problem? You're acting like a total bitch," Alice asked Rosalie, sipping her water through a straw.

"What? That guy was harassing us. You saw him eyefucking the shit out of my tits. That's revolting. He deserved to be put in his place." Rosalie smoothed the wisps of hair surrounding her face. "Besides, neither one of you were going to do it. I did us all a favor."

"Yeah, until he jacks off in your salad dressing on the side," Alice snorted.

"Oh, he wouldn't dare. I saw the fear in his eyes, he really thinks I'd mess up my manicure to kick his ass. Idiot." Rosalie was on a roll today. Note to self: don't say anything until Rosalie is out of earshot.

Just then, a waitress we hadn't seen before brought out our dishes, smiling politely as she set them in front of us. My salad looked very good, but I opted to forgo the dressing, Alice's spunk flavored additive still lingering in my brain

Rosalie meticulously picked over her plate, looking for an error or something out of the ordinary. Apparently, she found nothing strange, so she dove into her meal, smiling in triumph as she chewed her chicken. Alice had ordered minestrone and Caesar salad, her soup steaming and sending swirls around her face.

I took a small bite of my salad, the roasted eggplant's unique flavor and texture satisfying to my taste buds. I chewed quickly, swallowing the vegetables and taking another bite, the tart vinegar of the artichoke hearts fresh and pronounced when mixed with the greens.

I finished most of the salad until I felt the dull pressure burning in my belly. I pushed the plate away, trying to focus my mind on something else, anything but the twinge in my gut. My stomach cramped, twisted, but it wasn't nausea invading my senses this time. It was something else, something foreign. Fuck, I hope I'm not getting sick.

I got up from the table, Alice eyeballing me wearily. "I just need to use the restroom," I reassured her. I wasn't going to puke, but I felt off, not right. As I headed to ask a waitress for directions to the restroom, I felt a gush from between my legs. I stopped, suddenly panicked. What the fuck was that? Frantic now, I asked the waitress for the restroom whereabouts and I walked quickly to it.

I entered a stall and quickly pulled down my pants and sat on the seat, and then I saw it. Blood. At first I was perplexed, confused, and then I realized what was happening. My period. I fucking just got my fucking period. Shit!

I didn't know what to do. I hadn't had a period in such a long time, I no longer noticed its absence. But now I was actually having a period and I couldn't contain my emotions. Tears fell from my eyes in great sobs, my gasping breaths filling the small restroom with awful sounds, but I didn't even fucking care, I couldn't contain the power and urgency of the emotions I was feeling.

Tears streaming down my cheeks, I thought about what this meant in actuality. It meant it was working, that I was doing something right, because I had read on one of those websites Edward showed me that menstruation wouldn't return until you reached a certain percentage of body fat. I couldn't remember the numbers, but I knew it meant I was on the brink of that healthy weight range. I didn't know my weight when I came to Forks, the last time I had weighed myself had been back in Phoenix years earlier. I knew I had lost weight since then and that it had been enough to stop my body from ovulating, but at some point in the last five months it had changed. I had changed, and the fact that I could engage in something so trivial, so normal after months of being a freak, months of living without that feminine identity in my boyish figure and lacking the basic biological functioning indicative of womanhood, that my body had rebounded so easily, swelled within my entire being and filled my soul with crushing relief.

I don't know how long I had been sobbing on the toilet before Alice and Rosalie burst in through the outer door. I could hear them arguing.

"Rose, listen to me for fucking once in your life, just leave her alone," Alice was saying, trying to stop Rosalie from entering the bathroom. Alice probably thought I was puking and was trying to protect me from Rosalie's raging bitchiness.

"We need to fucking go. I'm supposed to meet Emmett in a half hour. I'm going to be late as it is. I'm sick to death of all of you catering to her. This is fucking ridiculous." I heard the door shove open, two sets of stumbling feet struggling through the door.

"Fucking let go of me Alice, shit!" I heard Rosalie mutter.

"Bella? Bella are you okay?" Alice knocked on the stall door.

"Yeah, I'm fine." I wiped at my face, trying to smooth away the tearful evidence.

"Bella, honey, I know you have some stomach issue or whatever but we can't wait around all day while you try to take a shit. Wrap it up, we need to fucking go." Rosalie's smooth voice conflicted drastically with the actual words coming from her mouth. Fuck, this was so embarrassing. I didn't want to discuss this with her, but I needed a pad or tampon or something, and my pants were fucking ruined, the blood having soaked through. I wished I could just appear at home, curled up in my bed and indulge myself in another good cry.

"I'm not sick, I started my period," I blurted out. "And it's bad," I added, hoping one of them would understand so I didn't have to explain.

"Oh Bella, are you serious?" Alice knew what this meant and I could hear it in her voice. She sounded excited, joyful almost.

"Yeah, I need something," I remarked.

"I'm on it." I was surprised to hear Rose's voice softening as she passed me a tampon under the stall door.

"Thanks," I muttered as I took it from her.

"Okay, Bella, we'll be outside," Alice said to me and I heard the door open. Shit! I wasn't going to be able to leave this bathroom in these pants.

"Um, Alice? It's on my pants," I mumbled, feeling like a fucking moron.

"Oh, shit! Um…" Alice was trying to think of something we could do. "Do you think you can make it to the car?"

"Bella, just wait here. Alice, keep her company, I'll be back in five," Rose said before leaving the restroom.

"Bella, oh my God, are you okay?" Alice asked candidly now that Rose had left.

"Alice, I'm kind of freaking out. I just can't control my emotions," I blubbered, the tears beginning to stream down my face once again.

Alice just laughed. "I get all emotional and shit when I get my period too. Welcome to ovulation!"

I laughed with her, thankful Alice was here to make light of the situation, putting things into perspective.

Rosalie returned ten minutes later, slipping a plastic shopping bag over the door.

"What's all this?" I asked. A pair of newly purchase underwear and jeans were folded in the bottom of the bag.

"What do you think it is? It's so you don't make a mess all over the inside of my car," Rosalie retorted.

I changed into the new clothes, noticing the jeans had a size four tag. They fit perfectly and I didn't even want to know how Rosalie knew what size jeans I wore. I put the soiled clothes into the bag, tying it at the top in a secure knot.

Finally put together, I left the stall. "Thanks Rosalie, for the pants and stuff. I'll pay you back." Shit, I had spent my cash on Edward's present. I desperately needed a job or something.

"How about a trade, the clothes for that book you let me borrow?" I thought maybe she was being sarcastic, so I was hesitant in answering.

"I'm serious," Rose said, her eyes refusing to waver, having sensed my hesitation. Her generosity surprised the shit out of me and I wondered at the cause of her sudden departure from cuntland.

"Okay," I answered, my voice wavering.

We left the restaurant, climbing into Rosalie's BMW as she sped across the winding highway towards Forks, my success tonight still present in the cramping of my stomach and the aching in my joints. I welcomed it all because it was a sign of change, of progress that I hadn't thought possible, progress incited by the constant devotion of that beautiful soul that belonged to Edward but that I called mine.

...

**A/N**

Joni Songs Referenced

_Chelsea Morning_

_Ladies of the Canyon_

_Willie_

_Court and Spark_

Leave me a message bb's! I know you're all deviously concocting your theories...


	19. Roses Dipped in Sealing Wax

**Darlings,**

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Disclaimer: I don't own it.

**CH. 19- **_**"Roses Dipped in Sealing Wax"**_

**EPOV**

_Name: Edward Cullen_

_Date of Birth: June 20, 1987_

_Age: 18_

_Please identify a person the Italian Culinary Academy might contact in case of an emergency._

I paused, unsure of what to write. My initial thought was to write Carlisle's name, but if Bella was going to be living with me in New York they should call her first, she'd be the closest person to the school and my next of kin, I guess. My mind rampantly imagined me cutting off my finger and Bella having to perform some sort of first aid and then trying to drive me to the hospital in fucking New York traffic, and I cringed as I forced myself to write her name and made a mental note to just dial 911 if something like that ever happened.

_Bella Swan_

I flipped the page over, continuing to fill out the application.

_Program of Interest: Italian Culinary Experience_

_Educational Information: Currently in High School, Expected Date of Graduation: June, 2005_

_Financial Aid and Housing: _

_Are you interested in applying for financial aid: Yes_

_Are you interested in applying for housing assistance: _

Fuck! Why do they have to know all this shit now? I mean, damn, I didn't even know they had housing assistance let alone whether or not I needed it. I didn't even know what the fuck that was, like what it entailed. All this ambiguity and decision making was really getting on my nerves. I guess I would have to go with maybe.

_Are you interested in applying for housing assistance: Uncertain_

That pretty much fucking summed it all up. I was uncertain. When Bella had handed me that present on my birthday, I had no idea she'd be handing me a plan for the future. And it was a good one, don't get me wrong, it was exactly what I wanted. The sight of that chef's coat reignited my eagerness for this. I tried it on when I got home that morning and just fucking reveled in it as I felt the weight of the coat, the stiff fabric on my skin making me anxious as all fuck to get to that Academy. Going to New York, even if it was only for ten weeks, would be impossible without Bella. I couldn't leave her here alone, not in the precarious state her health was in and similarly, I couldn't be there without her for so long; living there together, grocery shopping together, cooking together, even fucking doing laundry together, I wanted it all. Her plan really was the only way I was going to agree to go to the Academy but, fuck, what kind of douche bag lets his girlfriend move across the country and then work to support him while he gets to realize his every dream?

What I was left with was uncertainty; uncertainty that we could actually pull this off, uncertain that this was what Bella truly wanted, uncertain that I would even be able to hold my own in an Academy of aspiring chefs, people who had more experience than I, who already knew what the fuck they were doing. It was a lot to fucking think about.

Then there was always the chance of the now hovering ticking bomb resurfacing. Sometimes, when I was with Bella and everything felt so fucking good and normal, I found that I would forget about it. Then the realization would crush me and when I thought about the future, I was reminded of the fact that this fucking threat was never going away. I would always live in fear of the impending psychosis, forever questioning my motivation, my behavior, always searching for signs that the monster within was finally going to break free.

I sighed and pushed my hair from my face as I continued to fill out the application.

_Work Experience (Please submit your resume)_

Fuck. I had zero work experience. None. I'd never needed a job. The Volvo had been my mom's, a gift from my father for their anniversary three years ago. Anything else I needed was provided by Carlisle and Esme - clothes, food, gas, anything. They didn't want us to have to worry about shit like incidentals. Carlisle told us when we first moved in that we didn't need to worry about anything, that everything would be taken care of. But Carlisle couldn't write me a check for experience. I jotted down the name of the culinary classes I had taken at the community center and just hoped that would suffice.

_Essay: Please use the space provided to describe your reason(s) for wishing to enter the food service industry, as well as for wanting to enroll at The Italian Culinary Academy. _

Finally, a question I could fucking answer without wanting to slam my head through the wall. This would be easy as I knew exactly why I wanted to work in the food industry. Cooking just made sense to me. It had started as a way to seem normal, to avoid questions or to appease, but now it was a whole new monster. My passion in bringing nutrition to others and of finding ways to make interesting and provocative dishes now had an audience. I had always been discerning in choosing ingredients, but then I would batter and fry or seep in butter, taking these items that had been produced in purity and just beating the living shit out of them. They tasted good, don't get me wrong, they were fucking phenomenal, but when Bella entered my life she brought with her an opportunity, an avenue that I could explore in cooking that was rarely done, a challenge.

What if I could make the same staple dishes found in all the gourmet restaurants, but make them good for you too? Like take a chicken parmigiana, but instead of breading the bird with egg batter and throwing it in a vat of oil, maybe I could use something healthy instead, like sweet potato puree as an adhesive for wheat bread crumbs and baking the pieces instead of frying, or using meat substitutes, creating new and interesting vegetarian meals. I already had tons of ideas, spending most of my class time thinking of vegetable and fruit juice substitutes for oils and fats and scribbling them in my notebook now reserved just for recipes. I wanted to create a whole new way of cooking and eating centered around health, using food as a source of nourishment that would benefit the whole body not just the taste buds, and I wanted to do it in a gourmet setting. It was fucking revolutionary.

In this way, I could use what I had learned about nutrition and health from my experiences with Bella and Charlie to help others find a way to enjoy food, even if they had certain obstacles, like a sensitive digestive system or a failing heart, diabetes, lactose intolerance, the medical mayhem went on and on. And these people deserved good food too, right?

I had seen it work with my own eyes. Bella was getting better and I couldn't help but think the food had something to do with it.

The new school year had started, my fucking senior year, and I had rearranged my schedule so that I had Bella in most of my classes in case she needed me. It's amazing what you can persuade people to do with homemade chocolate cake. I had the office secretaries eating out of my hand, literally. The only difference was that Bella was taking an advanced literature class that I had already taken last year. Instead, I had opted for the English language conventions class, though I don't know what the fuck good this class was going to do for my future. Instead of semicolons and irregular verbs, I wrote recipes and read about different types of vegetables and fruits, researching spices and additives. Even with our side-by-side schedules I was a fucking mess every time I had to leave her, worried about where her mind would wander and whether she would give in to her bulimia when I was absent.

Emmett had moved to Pullman leaving behind an empty room that was now being occupied by Jasper. He didn't technically live with us, as in address change and shit, not yet but, fuck, he kept all his shit in that room, he ate dinner with us every night, he even had his fucking toothbrush in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom on the second floor. Carlisle had given him Emmett's room on one condition, that he stop selling drugs. Jasper agreed, saying he never made much cash off the venture anyway because all his customers were his buddies that expected freebies. Jasper hadn't needed the money at the time and now they were accustomed to his generous nature. Instead, he passed on his clientele to his supplier and I had to admit, I was pretty surprised. I had feared he would get into selling the harder shit just to make some cash, and that can get pretty dicey. I didn't know for sure, but there was a chance my sister may have had something to do with that decision.

I finished filling out the application, signed my name at the bottom and stuffed it into a manila envelope. I tied a red ribbon around the envelope and slipped Bella's birthday card under the strip. This was my birthday present to Bella. She had made me promise not to spend any money on her saying any bit of cash we had we should save for New York, and I had reluctantly agreed, considering what she must have spent on the Academy uniform. But this was what she wanted so I complied because that's how bad I love this girl. Yeah, I was fucking whipped and I fucking adored it.

Bella would be here soon to help me finish up the cake for her birthday party. We recently discovered that Bella hadn't had a birthday party, like a real party, since she had turned eight. Alice was flabbergasted and saw an opportunity to take it upon herself to organize a small party for Bella's eighteenth birthday, complete with balloons and streamers and party games. Alice had said she wanted to recreate the quintessential children's birthday party, loving the shit out of the irony of the fact that this birthday actually made Bella an adult. Yeah, my sister is such a freak.

Anyway, the house now looked like a crayon box exploded, fucking primary colors all over the place. There were balloons filled with confetti and streamers wrapped around every fucking thing imaginable. The bar in the kitchen was covered in red paper and bowls filled with three different kinds of chips and dip and trays of veggies and fruit. I had made honey wheat pizza dough and marinara sauce and we were going to top our own pizzas for dinner. The fridge was stocked up with bowls filled with any and all toppings I could think of from the usual pepperoni, sausage and veggies, to the more unusual spinach, bacon, chicken, sugar glazed walnuts, cranberries, and even a variant of cheeses, from mozzarella to a more heady gorgonzola or feta. It would be an anything goes pizza extravaganza. Alice had planned all kinds of stupid-ass games like musical chairs, pin the tail on the donkey, and even a three legged race. I rolled my eyes when she had told me about these games, vowing I wouldn't be caught dead playing anything that included three legs or a donkey, but Alice had a gift when it came to mercilessly bullying people into doing what she wanted. And again, if Bella wanted to play, then I would play.

All I had left to prepare now was the cake. I had decided upon a light angel food cake served with zabaglione and garnished with a fresh peach and raspberry glaze. Angel food is a very light cake really, only flour, sugar and egg whites, so it was low in calories when compared with other desserts. Of course, the zabaglione is originally saturated with fat, the custard consisting primarily of egg yolks and sugar. Instead, I used a sugar substitute and cut the egg count by half by using the whole egg instead of just the yolk, retaining the volume but reducing the fat. I mean, it wouldn't be as rich as a traditional zabaglione, but it would still be fucking good and rich with a hint of Marsala, the sweet vintage wine a dessert all its own.

I had prepared the cake yesterday but held off on the custard, wanting it fresh and served at room temperature. Bella was going to help me with the peaches and berries by boiling the fruit until softened, the natural sugar of the peaches providing much of the syrupy texture and hardly requiring any additives at all.

Pulling the ingredients from the fridge I set up an area for Bella to do her slicing, sharpening a knife and laying it by the cutting board, the box of peaches set on the counter. I set up my own workspace by the stove, filling the bottom pan of the double boiler with water and turning the burner on to a low setting. Zabaglione requires a lot of whisking and I had to have everything I needed close at hand so as to prevent scrambling the eggs.

"Hey," Jasper said as he walked into the kitchen and grabbed a handful of chips from one of the bowls on the bar. He leaned against the counter, stuffing whole chips into his mouth one at a time.

"What's up? Don't let Alice see you just standing around, she'll find something for you to cover in crepe paper," I remarked.

"Dude, I know. I've been twisting shit in crepe paper all morning long, the same amount of twists in each strand. She made me fucking count." Jasper smiled and shook his head as he continued to munch on chips.

"Did you hear if Emmett and Rose are going to make it? I heard they were going to try to drive up. Believe it or not, Rose is homesick. Not actual homesick but here homesick, you know?" Jasper said.

"Yeah, I think they were going to leave by noon, drive straight through. The way Rose drives they ought to make it here in less than five hours," I remarked. Pullman was a good four hundred and fifty miles from Forks but Rose had a lead foot and a fucking talent for getting out of speeding tickets. This made her unhesitant when it came to breaking the speed limit.

"True, true," Jasper replied. Just as I was going to start cracking the eggs into a bowl the door bell rang.

I opened the door to find Bella standing on the porch, her heart shaped face beaming up at me excitedly. Her pink lips spread into a wide grin, the rich hue of her chocolate eyes infiltrating mine as I pulled her into my arms and nuzzled my face into the bend of her neck. Her skin here was so fragrant, so soft, and I gently brought my lips to press into the space. I inhaled deeply, trailing my hands through the dark tresses swirling down her back and recognized the scent at once: comfort, ease, home.

Bella wrapped her arms around my waist and her warm body pressed against me as I relaxed into her familiar touch, her thin hunter green sweater ribbed beneath my fingers. She was wearing a knee length black skirt, the stiff fabric pleated around her hips, her figure shapely beneath the material. I eased at the fact that Bella's fuller figure meant her health was improving but, fuck, I ached to press my hands into her curvier flesh. I took it as sign that the plan was working, that we were kicking the piss out of this fucking eating disorder and as much as it was Bella's success, I took pride in it too.

"Hey," she said, smiling up at me. Bella was so fucking beautiful, full rosy lips, dark lashes framing her wide velvet eyes surrounded by smooth, luminous skin. What struck me most, though, was that the creature wrapping herself around me in this moment was the most complex person I'd ever known, the inner workings of her mind tuned in to the delicate facets of all parts of life. In our discussions, more than anything or anywhere else, I found a wealth of ideas, each of them indicative of Bella's gracious and loving nature.

"Hi," I responded. "Happy Birthday."

"Thanks," she said, releasing her arms from my waist and walking towards the kitchen. "So, how bad is it?"

"What do you mean? It's Alice. It's exactly as bad as you think it is," I grinned as we walked into the kitchen which opened up to the family room, Bella's eyes widening at the display of color overwhelming the two rooms.

"Holy shit, you guys were busy this morning," she laughed, looking around. "Oh my God, is that pin the tail on the donkey? That's hilarious! Did she get a piñata? Please tell me there's a piñata."

"Of course there's a piñata? What kind of birthday party do you think this is?" Alice asked while she bounced down the stairs, her black hair curled around her ears. She was wearing her hair a little longer now, her pixie cut having grown out so that her natural waves were starting to show themselves.

"Alice, I can't believe you did all this. It's seriously awesome," Bella hugged my sister, Alice grinning and relishing in her handiwork.

"I had help, you know," Alice said, moving to wrap her arms around Jasper's waist. She kissed his cheek in appreciation, as if twisting crepe paper was the most fucking brilliant thing in the world.

"You guys didn't have to do all this. Although, I am a little excited, I love party games. It's just perfect," Bella said as her eyes met mine, and I smiled at her excitement, even though I knew her shining eyes meant I'd be fucking playing musical chairs later.

"Alright!" I said, clapping my hands. "Bella and I have shit to do so kindly clear our workspace, which means get the fuck out of the kitchen while we take care of business."

"Well, since you asked so nicely," Alice said, rolling her eyes as she began to make her way towards the stairs. Jasper followed her, saluting as they made their way to the second floor.

"Okay, what can I do?" Bella asked as she leaned against the counter, and my eyes lingered on her swelling chest, the low v-neck sweater cruelly testing my self control. Her figure was still slight and very thin but, shit, I couldn't believe how much the added fullness affected me. Then, she fucking shows up in a goddamn skirt knowing damn well what that shit does to me. The sight of her bare legs had me imagining them wrapped around my waist and then I was lost in pornville; Bella bent over the counter, Bella on the cool wood floor, Bella covered in peach juice... Fuck! I had to shake the images from my head, we really did have business to attend to.

"Um, well, I was thinking you could slice up the peaches for the glaze. They need to be pared, pitted and sliced," I said, pointing to where I had set up the cutting board. "Then dump them in this saucepan," I said, crouching down to pull a saucepan from the cabinet, the creamy and smooth skin of her legs right next to my fucking face so I couldn't help but kiss her calf, the skin cool and emanating her floral sweetness.

When I stood up Bella's eyes were flooded with pupil, her teeth gently pressing into the fullness of her bottom lip, and I had no choice but to bring my mouth to hers, pressing her against the counter and clutching at the skirt around her hips.

She licked at my tongue, her hands tangling in the fabric of my shirt. Her mouth was delicious and I kissed her fiercely, our tongues moving in pulsing undulations, my hands exploring the ripples of her body before dragging my lips away, still concerned with the task at hand.

"You want me to do what to the peaches?" Bella asked, licking her lips. Fuck, this girl was too much.

"I need you to carefully peel the skin, retaining as much of the fruit as you can. It might be easier to slice them first and then peel, the skin will provide some traction on the cutting board and protect the flesh. They tend to get a little slippery after you've peeled away the skin," I said softly, my hands still gripping at her hips.

"Hmm, thanks for the hint. Don't worry, I'll be gentle with your peaches," Bella's lips curled into a cruel grin and I matched her amusement, her double meaning obvious as she trailed her hands down my torso to grip the waistband of my pants, her fingers dangerously close to my swelling erection.

"Fuck, Bella, are you trying to kill me?" I growled, pinning her against the counter again, my hips pressed against her small frame. She just laughed, kissing my nose as she pulled a little on my waistband.

"If you can't stand the heat..." she grinned and escaped my grasp, moving to the cutting board to begin slicing the peaches.

I shook my head, trying to abate my desire to touch her some more, and began cracking the eggs into the bowl. I whisked the eggs with the sugar substitute until they resembled a soft foam. Putting them in the upper pan of the double boiler with the water below hot and bubbling, I whisked constantly, stopping only to add the Marsala to the mixture and being careful not to let the eggs boil. I continued to whisk until the custard was thick and doubled in volume, the muscles of my arms just beginning to strain after about five minutes of the repetitive motion. Bella was quietly carving the peaches, her eyes fixated on the fruit and knife in her hands, her saucepan practically filled beside her.

"That's enough peaches, we need to save room for the water," I said to her as I removed the custard from the pan, spooning it into a large bowl.

She nodded and finished up the peach she was slicing, dumping the pieces into the saucepan and placing the cutting board and knife into the sink. She gave it a quick rinse, before cleaning the counter of peach debris.

"Perfect timing," I said, smiling at her as she dried her hands on a hand towel. I brought the saucepan to the sink, filling it with water and placing it on the burner of the stove. I turned on the heat, the flames dancing against the dark graphite pan as I stirred in a dollop of honey, allowing the sticky syrup to dissolve into the boiling fruit. I mixed a small amount of cornstarch with some water in a separate bowl, dissolving the white powder and whisking the creamy blend in with the peaches. Instantly, the combination began to thicken and bubble into a syrupy glaze, and I continued to let it boil until the mixture simmered clear.

Bella watched over my shoulder, her lavender scent wafting around me and mixing with the sweet nectar of the softened peaches as I pulled them off the heat.

I heard the front door open and slam shut and the sound of heels in the hallway as Emmett's booming voice shot out through the house.

"What up, bitches!" Emmett walked into the kitchen with Rosalie right behind him carrying a colorful bag filled with tissue paper. He walked over to me and looked into the saucepan before smacking me on the back.

"Hi guys, gotta pee," Rosalie walked straight past us to the downstairs restroom.

"Hiya, Eddie. Dude, what is that? It smells fucking amazing." Emmett stuck his finger into the boiling hot peach glaze but retracted it quickly, frantically trying to wipe the hot liquid from his skin.

"Holy fucking shit goddamn motherfucker!" Emmett danced around the kitchen, putting his scalded finger into his mouth. "Shit! That's fucking hot!"

"Yeah, I just pulled it off the burner, dumbass. That'll teach you to stick your fingers in someone else's pan," I grinned. Man, I had missed this fucker. Yeah, he was obnoxious, and watching him destroy a meal was probably the most revolting thing on the planet, but I had to love the guy. Nobody made me laugh like Emmett. Sometimes, when I thought of Emmett and his carefree nature, always looking for the humor in things, I thought that maybe this is what I could have been if my father hadn't been so fucked up. I mean, Emmett and I were both Cullens, we shared DNA, the only difference was that his DNA wasn't completely tarnished. It was all a matter of chance that my father got this genetic anomaly and Carlisle didn't. It could have just as easily been Emmett in my position.

But it wasn't. Emmett was perfectly normal with nothing to worry about besides where the next kegger was at, and I was the one formulating a back-up plan so I wouldn't end up destroying my girlfriend in case schizophrenia decided to take over. It's just the way it was, fucking survival of the fittest and shit.

As if summoned by curse words all the upstairs occupants flooded into the large kitchen. Alice and Jasper followed by Esme and Carlisle filed down the stairs and assaulted Emmett with greetings, Esme pulling her son into a tight embrace, her small figure fiercely protective as she tried to wrap her arms around her massive little boy. Carlisle's eyes sparkled with delight as he shook Emmett's hand and patted his son on the back, greeting him like a man and no longer the young boy that had left for college barely a month ago. Emmett ruffled Alice's hair as she cringed and ducked away from his taunting, and smacked Jasper in the gut, playful violence being one of Emmett's favorite displays of affection. It was oddly comforting to have my family together again.

Emmett was still whimpering about his finger when Rose came back from the restroom.

"Let me see, you big baby." Rosalie took Emmett's hand, inspecting his finger for damage. "You're fine, it won't even blister." She rolled her eyes, carrying the present over to Bella.

"Happy birthday, Bella," Rose said politely, handing her the colorful bag.

"Um, thanks guys. You didn't need to get me anything. I mean, you guys drove all the way up here," Bella rattled.

"Nonsense! You're one of us now, and we wouldn't miss make your own freaky pizza night for anything. Not even five hours of listening to various angry chick bands could make me miss this," Emmett laughed, Rosalie smacking him on the arm.

"Hey, driver gets radio rights, right?" Rosalie responded, opening the cabinet and getting out a glass, filling it with water and drinking.

Alice moved to the fridge and pulled out the various toppings for the pizza and I retrieved the pizza dough resting in the lukewarm oven. I ducked underneath the cabinet to get the various baking sheets that we used for making pizza and coated them with a nonstick spray.

"Open your gift Bella, I want to see what it is," Emmett commented, grinning at his joke and shoving what seemed like an ungodly amount of potato chips in his mouth.

"Nope, not yet. Presents aren't until later." Alice took the gift and placed it on a small table in the family room which I noticed already contained a hefty stack of neatly wrapped packages.

"I shoulda know the pary naz woul show up t-nigh," Emmett remarked, his mouth full of chips.

"Yeah, English is hard, huh Emmett," Alice responded sarcastically.

"Ahhh, ha, ha, ha, fuck you," Emmett said, roughly messing with Alice's hair again and she squirmed, laughing as she tried to get away.

"Hey, language!" Esme scolded. She took the pans from my grip and spread them out along the counter as I flattened the balls of dough, stretching them with my hands and sprinkling them with flour when the dough became too sticky. I pressed the dough into each sheet, some round and some rectangular, and passed them to the others. Each of them took turns spooning the sauce on the flat dough, loading various toppings onto their creations in an unspoken competition to come up with the oddest and most delicious combination of ingredients.

The doorbell rang again and Bella went to get the door this time. Charlie must have finished work early. I turned on the double oven, it was already warm so it wouldn't take long to preheat.

Bella returned a minute later, Charlie lumbering behind her.

"Hi all," Charlie greeted the group. Carlisle abandoned his pizza to greet him and shake his hand and Esme followed, giving him a hug and thrusting a round pizza pan already covered in dough into his hands.

I pressed some dough into a rectangle pan for Bella who was now at my side, and she grinned at me, kissing my cheek before taking the sheet.

"What would you like on it?" Bella asked me.

"Whatever you want. Everyone makes their own. I'll make mine later, just put what you want on it, although the most creative gets an honorable mention," I told her, raising my eyebrows suggestively.

"Just tell me what you want, I'll make it. You're here taking care of everyone else, let me take care of you for once," Bella's little lip jutted out stubbornly and I knew better than to argue with her over something so trivial, so I conceded. "Okay, um, just put olive oil, tomato, basil, and gargonzola."

"That's it? Not even sauce?" Bella asked me, perplexed.

"Nope. Trust me, it will change your life. You've never had pizza like this before," I smirked.

"That's for damn sure. The last time I had pizza I puked in the school day-smoking bathroom occupied by a snarky little know-it-all who puffed like a chain smoker and called me immature," Bella mumbled, her eyes veiled in pensive thought.

"You never had a chance, you know. Any way you look at it, this is where you are supposed to be," I responded, bringing my hand to cradle her cheek and placing a light kiss on her full mouth. She smiled, kissing me back more earnestly, and I noticed a small amount of flour smudged on her cheek. I brushed the excess away, softly caressing her face, drinking in her grin, before turning back to my task. Bella moved to the counter and began to top the dough.

One by one they brought me their pans and I placed them in the oven to cook, four at a time. It would take a while for them all to cook, ten pizzas altogether because Emmett had to make two, but the benefit would be that when the first batch was done everyone would share by taking slices from each other's creations for exposure to flavor combinations that they may not have otherwise tried. So far, the most unique combination of ingredients were Rose's; she had lathered her dough with a white balsamic vinaigrette instead of sauce, topping it with spinach, carmelized walnuts, cranberries, bacon pieces and feta cheese. It was like a spinach salad pizza. Fucking genius.

While we waited for the pizza to cook Alice made us play party games and, surprisingly, it was fucking hilarious. These games took on a whole new meaning as an adult. Musical chairs was really just a wrestling match, Emmett using any means necessary to win. He ended up trying to sit on Jasper's lap at one point and the game halted for an entire ten minutes while they traded headlocks, rolling around on the floor and knocking shit over. Esme finally had to pull Emmett up by the hair in order to get him to relent.

After Bella practically broke her ankle when Alice blindfolded her and spun her around during pin the tail on the donkey, the game forever tainted now by lewd and obscene remarks, the games where abandoned as the timer dinged. I pulled four perfectly browned pizzas from the oven, melted cheese sizzling on the side of the pan, the different ingredients filling the room with a variant of smells; onions, bacon, tomatoes, basil, sausage, all of them gently enhanced by the honey sweet smell of the crust. I replaced them with four more pizzas waiting to be cooked and then used the pizza cutter to slice up the ones that were done.

I made the slices small, like testers or a pizza shot, so that they wouldn't get full from one slice and would be able to enjoy multiple pieces. Everyone grabbed a piece, testing the different toppings and remarking on the different flavor combinations, and we all agreed that this round went to Rosalie.

I watched Bella as she ate her pizza, one tiny slice of my tomato basil. She chewed slowly and I knew she was paying attention to her body's cues, trying to prohibit the feeling of fullness that often prompted the puking. Bella always looked like eating was torturous, always having to pay attention, focusing on her body, and it fucking destroyed me every time. Fuck, eating should be easy, something enjoyable, especially today, surrounded by good food and good friends, this should be fucking fun. I found myself wondering if it would ever be easy for her, if she would ever be able to enjoy food without the stress and pressure of suppressing her compulsion.

Again, the timer dinged and I removed the pans, placing the last two into the oven and resetting the timer. I cut the pizzas into small slices and then moved to take a slice of my tomato basil perfection. The smell emanating from my pizza was fucking heavenly, the basil and olive oil mellow and subdued when mixed with the more distinct aroma of the gorgonzola. Fucking surreal, the way the flavors arrived in waves, first the cheese, then the basil, followed by the yeast of the bread, all of them assaulting my senses.

I looked around searching for Bella, scanning the room but unable to locate her. Fuck! My mind automatically engaged the worst case scenario - Bella curled around a toilet, dwelling in self loathing, crying and broken from her failure. I had to go to her. I carefully slipped away from the group and rushed to the guest bathroom, noticing the door was closed. I paced outside the door, debating whether or not I should knock or if I should just wait for her to finish or if I should just go in. The anticipation of not knowing was suffocating and I pressed my ear to the door, trying to get a clue as to what the fuck was happening inside. I heard Bella cough and that was my sign, she was fucking purging and I wouldn't let her do this, not now, not after doing so well for so long. Without even knocking I kicked in the door, the pathetic excuse for a lock bending to my will.

Bella was sitting on the toilet, her skirt wrapped around her waist and her undies pushed down around her ankles, a look of sheer confusion and horror upon her face. Oh shit. Oh fucking shit! This was not what I expected.

"Edward! What the fuck? Get out!" she squealed. I left the room quickly, shutting the door behind me. Shit! What the fuck is wrong with me? I am a total fucking asshole. The fact that I automatically thought she'd be puking, that I didn't even think she'd be using the bathroom for what every normal person uses the bathroom for, was horrifying to me. What kind of message did this send to Bella? What did it say about my own thoughts about her progress?

Whatever the answer may be, Bella was pissed and she had every right to be. I could only imagine what she must be thinking. She was going to be irate, and all I could do was wait outside that door until she decided to come out and tell me about it.

…

**BPOV**

Okay, let's see, I got my period in July, nothing in August, and now it was September with nothing but a small staining of blood, not even worth counting. I sighed in frustration at my lame-ass body and a reproductive cycle that didn't know how to cycle. A normal girl would have been freaking out, thinking the extreme - unplanned pregnancy. Not me. I wasn't pregnant. I was defective.

This was all I could think about as I sat on the toilet in the Cullens' downstairs bathroom, all I could think about was how that one time must have been a fluke. I kicked myself for getting my hopes up, for thinking everything would be normal. I even had told Edward we needed to start using protection that first time after the period. At first he was confused and I remembered his words, "You're not on the pill anymore?" I answered, "No, I'm not on the pill," which was the utter truth but the fucking last thing I wanted to do was discuss my period with my boyfriend, so I left it at that. Of course, because I'm an idiot and didn't think about it until we were in the throes of thrusting, we had to make do, the pull out method a favorite amongst teenagers everywhere. Since then, we had used a variant of creative contraceptives, but I didn't want to go on the pill. Not yet. I had read somewhere that sometimes they put girls like me on the pill so they would start to have a regular period, but I didn't want some artificial hormone making my body do what it was supposed to do naturally. I wanted it to do it by itself, kind of as a marker that I was successful in taking care of my body, that what I was doing was working.

I know that article said that this would take time but, shit, I had already had a period, meaning that my body could ovulate, so I started to worry that what I was doing wasn't enough. I tried to think about what I had done before, maybe there had been something that specifically spurred the menstrual triumph, but I couldn't think of anything that I was doing differently. I have been doing exactly the same thing, every fucking day, since before prom. I coughed, a tickle in my throat. I just didn't understand.

Suddenly, I heard a loud crack and the bathroom door flew open. Edward was standing in the doorway looking horrified beyond belief.

"Edward! What the fuck? Get out!" I yelled the first thing that came to mind. I love Edward and everything, but I didn't want him to see me on the toilet! That's a whole new level of closeness that we had yet to explore and this, this was just fucking shocking as all hell. What would possess that boy to bust through a locked door to get to me?

Then it hit me. He thought I was purging. He thought I was in here puking and he decided to fucking bust through the door, without asking, without knocking, without even making sure if his assumptions were correct. It was probably the most patronizing thing anyone has ever done to me. Quickly, he shut the door, leaving me in the bathroom to make sense of all this, which I assumed was what he'd be doing right outside.

What did he think he was going to do if I was puking, physically stop me? Did he think I wouldn't be able to deal with it on my own? I had been dealing with this shit for the last three years of my life, I think I had dealing with it down. It was dealing without it that was the real challenge.

That was another thing, did he think I could just slide right back into purging, did he not believe in my self control at all? I hadn't purged in months, since camping, and yet he still thought that every trip to the restroom meant I was going to puke. So many things were running through my head, so many implications that I couldn't even put some of them into words, so instead, I dwelled on the feeling of the ideas, and they all felt pretty shitty.

Then again, why should he trust that I was just using the restroom? I had created this expectation from my behavior, my previous pattern of puking discrediting all my attempts to persuade him otherwise. I had made him this way, why should I expect him to change after only a few months of success? Just like my body, maybe Edward too had to get used to my new healthy lifestyle. When I forgot about my own wounded pride, his actions were actually to be expected and they were exactly what I deserved. _"I love you when I forget about me..."_

On this conclusion I tidied myself, washed my hands and walked out of the restroom. As predicted, Edward was seated on the floor in the hallway, his elbow resting on his bent knees, his head resting in his hands. He was expecting the worst.

He looked up as I walked into the hall, standing up and shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Hey," I said, trying to ease his apprehensive stance.

"Bella, I'm so sorry," he apologized, bringing his hand to smooth his hair away from his face. "I just didn't want you to have to go through it alone, if it was what you were going through, which obviously it wasn't, so-"

"Edward, stop. I understand," I interrupted. "It doesn't make it right, but I understand. It makes sense that you would jump to that conclusion and that's my fault. I'm sorry that you can't trust me to be strong enough, not yet, and that's okay. I understand it's going to take time."

"That's not what I-" Edward tried to interject and I held up my finger, something he always did when he needed a moment, and he stopped, accepting the signal.

"But, like you said, what if you're not around to save me from myself every time? I need to be able to handle this on my own because you can't spend your life picking up the pieces." Edward was frowning at these words and I knew this was hard for him to hear, but it was the truth and even more than I wanted to be with Edward forever, I wanted to be someone _worthy_ of being with Edward forever.

"Why aren't you fucking pissed at me? You should be. What I did was inexcusable," Edward said, a picture of dejection, his eyes fixated on the floor, his hands still in his pockets.

I walked over to him and wrapped my arms around his waist, attempting to catch his gaze and hold his eyes with mine. "Look, you made an assumption, it was a mistake. You were just trying to help, I get it. And it's okay. Can we just go back to the party?"

Edward sighed, still troubled, but we both knew now wasn't the time for this discussion. He nodded, finally returning the hug and kissing my forehead. He pulled away, slipped his hand in mine and led us back into the family room. Alice noticed us as we appeared, jumping up from the couch and walking over to us.

"Are you ready for presents?" she asked excitedly, and I internally sighed in relief, our absence apparently unnoticed.

"Yeah, okay. Let's do this," I said optimistically. I absolutely loathed opening gifts in front of others. I am always appreciative of the gifts but I sometimes have a difficult time conveying the proper amount of enthusiasm. I hated being the center of attention with everyone staring at me and waiting to see my reaction to their gift. I guess I just didn't want to disappoint.

I opened Emmett and Rosalie's gift first. Removing the tissue paper, I pulled out two books, one was _The Awakening_ by Kate Chopin, the very book I had traded Rose for the clothes she bought in Port Angeles, and I shook my head at her trickery. The other was a compilation, _The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson. _

"Thank you, so much. I love, love Dickinson, absolutely one of my favorite writers of all time," I said, truly excited with this gift. I couldn't wait to start reading it. "But Rose, this is your book. We made a trade, remember?

"You think I'd want to keep your old, tattered copy? I bought a new one," Rosalie rolled her eyes and I smiled, knowing full well she was completely full of shit.

"Yeah, I totally thought of you when I saw that, um, who is it again? Emma something or other?" Emmett added, throwing his heavy arm around my shoulder while I chuckled at his joke. He obviously had nothing to do with this purchase.

"Here, this is from me and Jasper." Alice handed me a rectangular package. I carefully slipped the paper off the items, reading the titles as they were disclosed. They were two DVD's, one a live Joni Mitchell concert and the other a documentary detailing her life. I ran my fingers across the face peering up at me from the cover, a cigarette between her fingers and a beret covering her long straight blond hair, her appearance almost childlike if not for the deep creases around her eyes and lips.

"Alice, I'm stunned. I can't wait to watch these. Thank you so much." I tried to convey my appreciation in my voice but feeling like I was failing miserably, I hugged her instead, and because I knew how money was kind of an issue now, I hugged Jasper too.

"Well, you already have every album on your mp3 player, so I figured if you ever got bored of listening, you could watch instead," Alice said, handing me another gift. "This is from Carlisle and Esme."

I opened the large, heavy box, finding a vintage looking set of hardcover books. I read the bindings; _Pride and Prejudice, Mansfield Park, Emma_. They were Austen novels and they were absolutely beautiful.

"Edward said you liked the classics. They're not really vintage, they just look like it," Esme said from her seat on the couch. I went over to hug her and Carlisle, Esme placing a small kiss upon my cheek.

Charlie cleared his throat and pulled a small weathered box from his pocket. "Well, this isn't much, but I figured you should have it. Happy Birthday, Bella." He handed me the box and I lifted the lid. Inside was a silver bracelet, and I gasped.

The bracelet itself was not the marvel. Affixed to each link were charms, some looked ancient, pewter and silver browned with tarnish, and some glowed with brilliance, shiny and bright . I touched each of the charms carefully; a curled up cat, a daisy, a pair of dice with a Las Vegas tag, a pair of Mickey Mouse ears from Disneyland, a Statue of Liberty, an Eiffel tower, the undeniable boot of Italy, a blue sapphire gem set in the middle of a heart. There must have been at least fifty charms on the heavy bracelet in my hands, all of them different and clinking together as I inspected the trinkets, creating a soft chiming in my hands.

"It was your mom's. I gave it to her when we were in high school. Each of those charms there were places she wanted to go, things she liked. She didn't want it anymore, afterward. So, there you go," Charlie mumbled to me, his creased eyes shining.

I couldn't speak, not at first. I wanted to ask him what had happened between them, why my mom left, why he didn't try to find me, to call me, to write even. I didn't know how to feel about this bracelet. It represented their dreams, things they had wanted to experience together, a glimpse of the life they thought they would have, their life before me. Looking at the charms, my chest swelled at the people my parents must have been, their desires not far from my own, those young lovers now so far removed for the people I called my parents. Lightly, I touched the Statue of Liberty, a symbol of opportunity, my own dream encapsulated and affixed to that fucking bracelet.

My mom had always been a dreamer, setting her goals high but whimsical in her ideals. I knew I hadn't fit in to her plan but I had no idea how much so until this moment. Looking at her dreams, I realized how much she had given up, how disappointed she must have been. It had always been evident, but now it was concrete, all her broken ideals represented in one piece of jewelry. _"You could have been more..."_

I realized then that Charlie was trying to explain, not for his own behavior, but for my mother's. It was his way of sharing with me one piece of my mother that I never knew, that I would never have known. Renee wasn't exactly keen on talking about her youth, she rarely mentioned her life with Charlie, and even though something had transpired between them, something hurtful and wrong, he was apologizing for her. I couldn't control my emotions any longer. I went to my father and wrapped my arms around him, not able to encompass his girth, but I could smell his soap and aftershave and the marinara from the pizza still on his mustache, and I swore I could smell the sweet tobacco from my youth. I knew I was imagining it though, and the tears that fell from my eyes were unstoppable as memories from my childhood swirled through my mind.

"Thank you," I whispered, pulling away and wiping my face. He placed his large hand on my back, patting warily, avoiding my eyes and clearing his throat.

Edward was standing by the empty gift table now, a manila envelope in his hands. He smiled at me as he held out the envelope and I took it from him silently, slightly confused as to what this might be. I opened the envelope and peeked inside first, pulling the orange and white papers out and reading the first page aloud.

"The Italian Culinary Academy, Application for Admission," I read softly, glancing down at the personal information and then to the other pages already filled out in Edward's script, the neat and concise penmanship flowing out across the sheet.

I looked at Edward's face, his mouth pursed, his green jeweled eyes brimming with uncertainty and again, emotion overwhelmed me. This was his gift to me, all of it, New York, the Academy, our future, it was our gift to each other. It was the only thing I had wanted, the only thing I had hoped for, and here it was, bundled in a manila envelope.

I clutched the envelope to my chest while everyone whispered around me, but I only saw Edward. "This is perfect," I whispered, tears again streaming down my cheeks.

"It really is," he replied, his hand moving to cradle my face and I sighed and closed my eyes as I absorbed the caress. I felt whole, relief coursing through my veins as I leaned into Edward's touch.

"Okay, enough of this mushy shit, where's this cake?" Leave it to Emmett to be an emotional buzzkill. I opened my eyes, smiling at Edward as he shared my amusement. He dropped his hand from my face and moved into the kitchen to get the cake while Esme set to work making coffee, the aroma filling the kitchen as it percolated.

Edward brought the cake out of the fridge, the spongy angel food not particularly pretty in appearance, but once he cut the circle into separate pieces, spooning a small amount of yellow custard onto each and then topping with the peaches and a few fresh raspberries for garnish, I was amazed at how utterly beautiful the dessert was. The colors were so complimentary and the way the dark fuchsia of the raspberry hinted at the pinkish orange center of the peaches and splashed against the white sponge of the cake, the dish was a work of art.

After everyone received their plate, the group sang the expected birthday song to me, the clashing of voices humorous as Emmett tried to entertain us with his operatic rendition. It was soon over, replaced with the scraping of forks against plates, everyone fully engulfed by the dessert in front of them.

Edward's creation, once again, knocked me on my ass. The light, squishy texture of the cake combined with the creamy sweet custard danced upon my tongue, the peaches adding a tart, refreshing flavor to the dish. The syrupy juice absorbed into the angel food, balancing out the sweetness and just pleasantly invigorating to the senses.

It was fucking brilliant and I don't even really like food. I finished the whole piece, eating the cake slowly with my stomach pleasantly at ease.

I got up to use the restroom, Edward staring at me as I moved. I mouthed the words "Gotta pee" to him so that he wouldn't come barging in again and he smiled a quiet smile, giving me a quick nod. I really just wanted to check my makeup, to make sure I didn't have streaks of black mascara running down my cheeks.

I opened the bathroom door to find Rosalie crouched over the toilet, heaving and spitting into it in a position I knew all too well. She paused her puking to look up at me, her eyes swelling with tears, and muttered an emphatic "Fuck!" before being consumed again with the purge.

"Are you okay?" I asked. "Are you sick? Should I get Emmett or somebody?"

"No! Fuck!" She spat into the toilet again, taking a piece of toilet paper and wiping her mouth. "Just…will you shut the door already, before someone hears or something?"

I wasn't sure if she meant for me to leave but I took the initiative, entering the bathroom and closing the door behind me and standing with my back against it in case anyone else tried to get through the busted lock. If she wasn't sick and she didn't want anyone to know she was puking, well, I could guess the reason behind the purge. If anyone knew how to deal with an eating disorder, it was me.

She wiped her eyes with some toilet paper and took a seat on the toilet, her sweater dress curving around her figure. She ran a hand through her voluminous hair, her manicured nails creating deep pleats in her thick locks.

We sat in silence for a few minutes, neither one of us sure what to say. I figured it was up to me to break the ice.

"Rosalie, um, I don't know if you know this about me or not, but, um, I understand what you're going through. Um, I mean, I can relate," I said, trying to force myself to say the words, knowing that Rosalie was going to need a support system in this. I could be that, if she wanted.

Rosalie snorted, "Can you?"

"Yeah," I said, indignantly. Fuck, did she think she was the only one affected by this disorder? "I know what it's like, okay. The pressure, it consumes me too, so much so that I can't function and when it gets to be too much, I let it out."

"Bella, you don't know shit about my pressures, okay. You can't even begin to understand the burdens I carry, the strain of my life. It's suffocating, having to always be perfect, to always do what they want. How could _you_ possibly understand what it's like to be me?" Rosalie spat bitterly, her eyes narrowed in superiority and reeking of condescension.

Fucking bitch, like she knows shit about me, about my burdens.

"Look Rose," I said frankly, "I've been dealing with this shit since I was fifteen. I think I know a thing or two about bulimia. I'm not an idiot, you just ate cake and now you're in here puking it up, for what? Because of the pressure? To feel empty? To appease your parents? None of it is worth it. Edward helped me to see that. Don't do this to yourself, you're better than-"

"Bella," Rosalie cut me off, her face flushed with defeat. "I'm not bulimic. I'm fucking pregnant."

...

**A/N**

Joni Songs Referenced

_Roses Blue_

_All I Want_

_The Arrangement_

Give me your thoughts, my dears!


	20. Come In From The Cold

**Darlings,**

I know, I know. It's been a while. Thank you, dear readers for being so patient and a big huge thank you to **Fragile Human**, my comrade in all things wicked, for rec'ing this story in her A/N. You're fucking awesome bb!

A couple things…

I wrote a one shot for the **WA Rehab Whodunit Murder Mystery Contest**. If you're feeling brave and want to read some truly creepy shit, mosey on over to their profile and check out the stories. Don't forget to vote for your favs.

And while you're exploring fanfictionland venture on over to **The Fandom Gives Back** and check out some of the nifty shiz you can bid on. Links are on my profile sweeties!

Big fucking thank yous to beta-extraordinaire, **n7of9**, for your swift betaing skills. And you're so totally right, bb. She should have beard rash.

Disclaimer: I don't own it.

**CH. 20 "Come in From the Cold"**

**BPOV**

"What? You're pregnant? You don't…you don't have an eating disorder?" I stuttered, confused.

"No, I don't have a fucking eating disorder. And I have to say, thanks for the dramatic confession but I've known for a while now, ever since the first day you ate lunch with us. I mean, it really was quite obvious." And so the belittling continues. I let it slide, she was obviously feeling vulnerable, her sarcasm and biting comments proof of her hidden insecurity.

"Holy shit, are you sure?" I asked about the more pressing issue at hand. Rosalie was fucking pregnant? Holy fucking shit!

"Pretty fucking sure. I took, like, eight pregnancy tests after I missed my period, and I've never missed a period, ever." Rose stood up, pacing in the small space as she listed her evidence. "My periods are like fucking clockwork. Now with the constant puking…I haven't been to a doctor or anything but I think it's pretty clear."

"Oh my God…" I shook my head, dumbfounded. "What…what are you going to do? I mean, how…" I responded, trying to control the thoughts spewing from my mouth. Rosalie had just started college with a whole wealth of opportunities in front of her, opportunities that would be severely diminished when you factored in a baby.

"I don't know," she whispered, stopping to sit on the toilet seat again. She twisted her fingers, shaking her hands and clenching them into fists.

"Fuck! Bella, what am I going to do?" Rosalie's head dropped to her shaking hands, her fingers clutching at the blond strands. "Obviously, this wasn't planned…and my parents! Fuck! My parents would shit if they found out."

She looked up at me, her striking features strained and a fierce determination in her voice. "I'm serious, Bella, they would disown me. They'd quit paying for school, for the apartment, my car…it'd be over." She stood up again, pacing the length of the tiny room like a tiger in a cage. "You know what they're doing to Jasper. I'd have nothing if they found out about this. Nothing!"

Rosalie stopped in front of me suddenly and grabbed my arm, her face close to mine, panic electrifying her violet eyes as she pleaded. "I know I haven't been very…accepting of you, and I know you probably think I'm a heartless bitch, but please, you can't tell anyone." Her fingers tightened around my arm, desperation pinching into my flesh. "Not even Edward, not until I figure out what I'm going to do. I haven't even told Emmett yet. Please, Bella." Tears welled in her eyes as they darted back and forth across my face, searching and waiting for my answer.

I nodded my head and saw her relax, her relief causing her to drop her grip on my arm. She moved back to the toilet and collapsed on the seat. She leaned back, staring at her hands folded on her belly.

"Um, you have options Rose, I mean…you don't have to…have it or keep it, or whatever," I said to her, feeling like a moron. I had no idea what the proper etiquette was for shit like this.

"You know, I've always wanted to be a mom, ever since I was little, and when I started dating Emmett, when we realized we loved each other, I knew I wanted to spend my life with him, that I wanted a family with him." Rosalie's fingers spread out to slowly spread across her stomach as she spoke. "Even in planning my future, college, a career, none of it really mattered to me as much as having a family. I know it's not the right time, that people will think we're too young, too stupid, and I know all about my 'options', but all I can see is a chubby blue eyed baby with dark curls twisted around his dimpled face. I want him Bella. Or her. It, I guess." Rosalie smiled, a softness in her face as she spoke of the mass of cells dividing within her body, beneath her hands which were cradling her smooth stomach, her every dream nine months from realization. "I know it's stupid, I mean, it's only been like six weeks or something but I think…I think I already _love_ it. Do you think that's even possible?"

I knew what this felt like, to want something so bad, to want it enough to give up everything in the hopes of getting it, to love something so much you would completely accept it, fully aware of the struggle ahead, fully aware that there would possibly be backlash because of your decision. I understood. It was how I felt about going to New York and Italy, about being with Edward. It was the only choice I could live with.

"I know what you mean, but you don't have to do it alone. You have a lot of people who care about you, who can help." Her panic and the frantic worry in her voice had frightened me, her fingers still burned into my skin. I'd never seen her so defenseless, so exposed.

Rose snorted, her vulnerability calloused over with cynicism. "A lot of people? That's a stretch. I don't have any friends and my family is a load of fuckwits. No, Bella, I have Emmett and I can't even find the guts to tell him."

"That's bullshit. You have the Cullens and, I mean, I was willing to help out with the bulimia stuff, so I guess I could be there for pregnancy stuff too." I smiled, trying to imitate her perfected nonchalance.

Rosalie looked at me with sadness in her eyes as she considered my comment. I faltered in my bravado, feeling like an idiot and wishing I could retract my statement.

"Yeah, I guess I have you guys too," Rosalie said quietly.

I didn't know what else to say. I didn't want to pry, mainly because I didn't want to piss her off, not when she was actually treating me like an almost friend, but I felt uneasy with the hint of desperation in her words. I felt like I needed to say something but, shit, what could I say to make her feel better? I had zero experience when it came to pregnancy or babies, I mean, I had gone over a year without even having a period. The whole thing was fucking foreign to me.

"I don't know, maybe they won't disown me. Maybe they'll be excited that their only daughter is going to give them a grandchild. Maybe they'll see it for what it is, not a mistake, but an opportunity," Rosalie continued, but I could see the doubt in her eyes and in the purse of her lips. She knew her shithead parents would overreact something fierce. From their perspective their perfect little plan, their ticket to retirement had just thrown an enormous wrench in their wheel of corporate conglomeration. Rose was to be their legacy, they had placed all their hopes and dreams in this young woman, and now she was going to fuck it all up for them. There was no maybe about it, they were going to freak. _"Child with a child pretending..."_

I couldn't bring myself to tell her this. I just nodded as Rose stared at the wall in thoughtful contemplation and I could only imagine the scenarios that must be playing out in her head.

Just then there was a knock at the door and Rosalie looked at me in panic. I opened the door a crack to find Edward standing in the hall, concern upon his brow.

"Um, Alice wants to do the piñata, she sent me to find you," he mumbled, making sure I knew he had an excuse to come bother me in the bathroom. Fuck, shit was going to be all weird now until we had a chance to discuss what had happened earlier, and me sitting in the bathroom for the last ten minutes had definitely arisen suspicion. I stepped out of the bathroom and carefully closed the door behind me, following Edward out onto the back porch and leaving Rose alone with her thoughts.

As I watched the others participating in the festivities, blindly swinging a baseball bat at the tissue papered star hanging from a beam on the patio as Carlisle pulled the fixture to change position, and my own father giving tips on the proper swing, all I could think of was Rose and her predicament. I'd never really wanted to be a parent, I mean, fuck, in my experience the influence of parents was detrimental. My parents had never really expressed much joy for the occasion and before Edward the thought of children hardly crossed my mind. But now, now that I had this future assembling itself, before I could really even stop it from happening, I saw them. Two little bronze haired beauties traipsing through the woods, camping in the clearing, searching the tide pools on the shores of La Push. I saw them riding bikes and reading books, at piano lessons and at birthday parties not too different from this one, blindfolded and swinging a stick at a candy filled character. The images were so vivid they startled me, a flood of panic and awkwardness and longing all infiltrating and invading, and I pushed them from my mind, mentally berating myself for being so typical, but I couldn't deny them. The hint of their existence, a ghost of what could be, was burned behind my eyelids so much so that even as I closed my eyes I could make out every feature of their fine, angular faces.

It totally freaked me the fuck out. I couldn't be a mother, not yet. How could I be an example for a child? I was a complete mess.

I didn't get home until early in the morning. Charlie left shortly after the piñata but Emmett had wanted to watch some horror flick and since it was my eighteenth birthday and I was technically an adult now, I took advantage of my emancipation by lounging in the family room and hiding under the blanket that Edward and I shared. The room was filled with cringing gasps and corny jokes and the feeling of belonging, of unity, and of being part of a group left me overfilled with warmth as I left that home, my arms brimming with gifts.

When I woke up the next day I listened to a message on the house phone from my mom wishing me a happy birthday and asking for me to call. I couldn't muster the energy to deal with her antics so I postponed the conversation for another day. I thought about that bracelet she left behind, now placed at the bottom of my drawer right next to Charlie's old flannel, manifestations of my past that I found myself tucking away for safekeeping. When she left Forks she started over, removing herself from anything associated with her life here, including me. Not physically removed, like Charlie, but emotionally and mentally, treating me like a good friend rather than gracing me with the unconditional love of a parent. I knew that Renee loved me, she just didn't love me as much as she loved her newfound emotional freedom. I knew this, it had always been something I used to excuse her behavior, but now I didn't know if her behavior should be excused, now that I had been exposed to a family that gave selflessly, who behaved as a family should.

Esme had given up her career and opened her home, widening her heart to encompass two children that weren't even hers, two traumatized and frightened teenagers that could have very well been caustic to her nice cushy life. She welcomed them and absorbed them into her caring and gentile nature, and I'm very sure that if it weren't for her, Edward and Alice may not have faired so well.

And then there was Rose, a mother already in love with her unborn child. I could see it in her posture, the way she held onto her belly, her perfectly flat stomach that would soon swell with life, admiration already in her tone of voice. Rose didn't need any options, she already knew what she was going to do, she just didn't know how she was going to do it.

Charlie had already left for work even though it was a Sunday, so I curled up on the couch with one of my new books, the cooler weather of autumn prompting me to wrap myself in the afghan thrown over the back of the couch. I instantly lost myself in the pristine prose of misunderstandings and romantic entanglements, the characters victims of social status and circumstance. They always got their happily ever after though, despite the shit they always started out in. I could only hope for so much for the characters in my life as well, and even though this particular novel was written practically two hundred years ago, the theme was universal. Eventually, in the end, when all the kicking and screaming is done with, circumstance doesn't have shit on true love.

…

"_It's coming on Christmas, they're cutting down trees, they're putting up reindeer and singing songs of joy and peace," _Joni's mournful musings rang with clarity as I hung glistening bulbs on the short, fat Noble fir now invading the living room. Fragrant sap was fresh on my hands from adjusting the tree and making sure that it sat perfectly straight, situated directly in front of the window so that passersby could see the colorful splay of lights refracting in the glass and dancing off the rain slicked pavement.

It was barely two days after Thanksgiving, not even December yet, and already Charlie had insisted on putting up a Christmas tree. He had gone out shortly after noon claiming he had some shopping to do and graciously leaving Edward and I to a very empty house. He came back with a fucking tree tied to the roof of his car and a shitload of Christmas decorations - shiny tinsel, metallic bulbs, twinkling lights, strings of crystals and beads, candy canes and red velvet bows - just bags and bags of embellishments, and Edward and I quickly found ourselves in the middle of a huge mess of cardboard and plastic packaging, pricking our fingers on the sharp hooks used to hang the ornaments from the boughs.

Surprisingly, Charlie was in the kitchen, something I hadn't seen since I was a child. I could smell the familiar marinara bubbling on the stove, tomato, basil and olive oil hanging in the air, combining with the undeniable striking essence of evergreen wafting through the living room.

Things had been pretty complacent since my birthday party, the last two months an emphatic blur of classes spent doodling or scrawling notes back and forth between Edward and I, sometimes drawing illustrations for his creations in his recipe book while he perfectly sketched small letters onto my palm or the white rubber sides of my shoes, my legs stretched out to rest on his chair as he occupied the seat next to me for nearly every class. Lunch was spent in the cafeteria with Alice, half the crowd we were before, the three of us occupying the same table, Alice using the time to finish her homework so that when she got home she was free to spend time with Jasper.

Jasper had been working pretty stable hours at the store, especially now that the holiday season was approaching. Living with the Cullens had greatly enhanced his ability to save money and since he didn't have any bills, aside from the cash he gave Carlisle for food and various utilities, he was able to put money aside every month for his music school. I was pretty impressed with his unwavering devotion to his plan. I didn't know if it was his desire to prove his parents wrong, or because Alice had so much conviction in him and such certainty that he could achieve this goal, but they were making it work, and this furthered my confidence that Edward and I could make our situation work too.

I hadn't spoken with Rosalie since my birthday and, as far as I knew, she still hadn't told anybody about her pregnancy, thinking that Alice would have spilled if Rose had told her. I thought about her, though, wondering if she had told Emmett and whether or not she was ever going to tell her parents, or if she just intended on coming back home having traded her designer tote for a diaper bag and infant in tow. I was dying to ask somebody if she had mentioned anything, but holding to my promise I kept silent, not wanting my inquisitiveness to spark their questioning. Emmett called frequently yet his conversations were limited to discussing his classes, complaining about an infestation of ants, and then again when he couldn't figure out how to get his Xbox to connect to the internet. No shocking announcements just yet and I began to wonder if Rose was still pregnant at all, or if she ever had been.

Autumn in Forks had been rich in color and I was enthralled with the change of season. In Phoenix the temperature hardly changed, but I loved this new feel of impending change in the air, transforming the landscape and darkening the sky and bringing with it the chilling rains I had encountered when I had first moved here. _"And the seasons, they go round and round…"_

I used to hate this time of the year, the holidays. Beginning with Halloween and stretching until Easter, these events all centered around food: candy, sugary cookies, breads, roasted meats and rich, succulent gravies. It was a nightmare for someone with an eating disorder because not only was I constantly surrounded by especially tempting foods, but I was also constantly surrounded by people, people who now knew of my propensity to purge and skimp and who watched me like a fucking hawk whenever we ate a meal. There was no escaping them, Edward, Alice, Carlisle, Esme, even Jasper now. They never said a word but I could see them calculating, their critical eyes searching my plate to make sure I was eating enough, and even though I knew they were just doing it because they cared, it fucking drove me insane. I felt like I had proven to them that I could be trusted, that I was acting responsibly with my health and yet, their eyes continued to peer.

On Halloween, while watching reruns of the Twilight Zone and waiting for trick-or-treaters, Edward watched me while we ate caramel apples, the sticky confection hurting my teeth, and I received disapproving glances when I abandoned the candy coated fruit.

On Thanksgiving, Esme's face creased in fretful contemplation as I picked at my meager meal of salad, asparagus and pasta, the other items on the table not pleasing to my easily-affected digestive system. Yeah, so I wasn't eating as much as they were, I didn't gorge myself on holiday fixings, but I _was_ eating and wasn't that the whole point? I felt like such a child, being forced to sit at the dinner table until my plate was clean. I hadn't gained any more weight and my once loose clothing now fit snug, but I hadn't lost any either, my body adjusting and stabilizing the longer I continued this new pattern of eating behavior.

Rationally, I knew they wouldn't ever force me to eat, just like I knew they would never leave me to deal with it on my own. It was just what I had to accept because I had put myself in this position and because they loved me and wanted to see me well, and this was just the way it had to be. I had accepted it, but that didn't mean that it didn't get on my nerves once in a while, perhaps even more so now that every month was characterized by a spectacular family feast.

The only thing that still troubled me was that I hadn't had another period, just more spotting, but nothing like the one in July. All the websites I searched just said it took time, but, fuck, how much time? And when has it been _too_ much time, like, when should I see a doctor about it? Honestly, I was a bit apprehensive about seeing a doctor because I knew the nosy nature of Forks and I didn't want Charlie finding out about this.

Charlie was the only one who acted normally around me during mealtimes. He never asked questions when I didn't want breakfast and he didn't stare when I chose a banana over a burger, he just let me be, leaving me to take care of myself like a normal eighteen year old should be. It was one time his indifference worked in his favor and I found myself wanting to spend more mealtimes with him because of it.

Currently, Charlie was making lasagna and I could hear the hand mixer hitting the side of the plastic bowl, combining the ricotta, egg and parsley as the boiling water splashed onto the burner below, a sizzling sound emanating from the kitchen. Edward eyed me frantically and I almost laughed out loud at his worry. Edward was very particular about the way a kitchen should be treated, caring for his appliances the way some people cared for small animals, talking baby talk to them and putting them on his Christmas cards, and I swear, if he could carry his food processor in a purse without being committed, he would.

"Go ahead, go save him," I laughed, rolling my eyes as Edward dropped the ornaments carefully into a box and moved into the kitchen.

"How you doing in here," I heard him subtly ask Charlie, my father's low grumbling voice murmuring about the noodles sticking together or something.

I continued to place the ornaments on the tree, the spaciously sprawling branches perfect for hanging the delicate trinkets. I finished with the multicolored bulbs before moving on to the glass icicles, the prisms shining in rainbow beams and reflecting the twinkling multicolored lights. I wove a ribbon between the boughs, wrapping the tree in glistening and meandering strips of silver before I realized I needed Edward to place the angel Charlie had bought on top of the tree. I pulled the figure from the box, the innocent, porcelain face of the guardian smiling in quiet serenity as I smoothed the folds of stiff silk, the gold-leafed wings spreading out from its back in celestial adornment. Angels had always been my favorite Christmas decoration, a body of spirituality with their peaceful faces so gracious, not omniscient in their being but not plagued by human faults or fears either, and I liked to see them as messengers of peace and hope.

I walked into the kitchen still holding the figure to find the pair assembling the lasagna, the counter a mess of cheese and sauce, the sink overflowing with dishes, and my father grinned sheepishly as I entered the room.

"It's been a while since I made lasagna. Seems you forget things like that when you don't use them, I guess," my father said, his large hands splattered in sauce and ricotta. Edward's face was a portrait of restraint, like a parent trying to let their child tie their own shoes. He looked like he just wanted to take over the task but he waited patiently, allowing Charlie's fumbling hands to do most of the work.

"Edward's services are required for a very important decorating task, Dad," I smiled, holding up the angel. "Think you can handle the rest on your own?"

"Yeah, yeah, get outta here," Charlie grumbled, a faint of a smile unwillingly showing itself as Edward washed his hands and followed me into the living room.

"You should have seen what he was doing to that ricotta," Edward said quietly as we walked to the tree.

"Thanks for helping him. This is huge, you know. He hasn't cooked in, like, years I think. He must be planning something petrifying. You're staying for dinner, right?" I asked, only half joking. I really was apprehensively interested in Charlie's motivation for assuming the meal making duties for this evening.

"Yeah, I'll stay, but only because you're so cute when you're nervous." Edward wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me back against his chest, burrowing his face into my neck with small tickles of lips and tongue against my skin as he kissed the sensitive area, sending shivers of pleasure dancing down my spine as his hands roamed to my stomach and hips. "Now, about these services that I'm needed for..."

"Edward, not in front of the angel, it's indecent," I whispered, holding up the figure so that it was looking at him behind me. "See, it's shocked at your behavior."

Edward snorted and brought up his hand to cover the angel's delicate face. "There, problem solved."

I giggled and allowed him to place a few more kisses along my neck and shoulder before turning around and handing him the ornament.

He took the figure from my hand and easily placed it on top of the tree. I moved back, observing from multiple angles to make sure the angel sat even and straight.

"Perfect," I said, admiring our decorating job. I mean, we were no Alice, but it looked pretty good with all the ornaments evenly spaced and the multitude of colored lights dispersed through the depth of the wide tree.

"Not bad," Charlie commented, coming into the living room from the kitchen, a dish towel in his hands. "Lasagna will be done in about an hour. Hope you're hungry."

Edward and I cleaned up the discarded packaging overwhelming the small room as Charlie cleaned up the disaster that was the kitchen. Soon the room was back to normal, aside from the glistening tree taking up a large amount of space in front of the window. We relaxed into the two large chairs next to the couch, the television tuned to some sports documentary as we admired our flashing tree, the angel looking down from its sentinel seat.

Charlie appeared a short time later to call us in for dinner and we followed him into the kitchen. The small table and chairs had been cleared of the myriad of shit that had been collecting there for what looked like the past decade or so. Instead, it was dressed with a red tablecloth and three plates. The forks were still in a pile on the edge of the table, along with three cups of iced water positioned at the head of each plate. The lasagna, thick and bubbling, a light burned crisp around the edge where the cheese had melted into the dish, sat in the center of the table, a spatula settled next to it.

We sat down at the table as Charlie cut the casserole into messy squares, the noodles sliding around as he heaped the steaming portions onto our plates. I could smell the distinct herbal smell of the sweet basil and inhaled deeply, memories plundering my brain in bittersweet nostalgia.

I noticed that Charlie gave me a corner piece, the edge tinged with blackened cheese, noodle and sauce. When I was younger this had been my favorite part, the burned edges of the pasta offering a delicious crunch. I cut a forkful of cheesy sauce covered noodle and, after allowing it to cool, placed the fork in my mouth. The flavors now abundant, I suddenly remembered the exact last time I had tasted my father's marinara. I was ten years old and my mother had taken off on an all day shopping excursion. They had fought while I played upstairs, my mother screaming how she had no life, no friends, no hobbies, and frustrated that my father spent so much time at work. She called herself a single parent, saying she might as well just leave him then at least she wouldn't have to clean his piss off the toilet. Then she left, peeling out the driveway, and I remember wondering for a moment as I watched her from my room if she was really leaving, like, leaving for good. I wasn't worried, I wasn't scared, I was just wondering. My dad took me to the grocery store filling the basket with tomatoes, garlic and onions, fresh sweet basil and bags of pasta. After stewing the tomatoes, he crushed the pulp extra fine because I told him I didn't want any chucks in my sauce, turning the ingredients into an apology, an apology that my mother ate alone when she returned later after I had already gone to sleep.

Charlie cleared his throat and pulled me from the memory. Edward stared at me pensively as he chewed, probably wondering where my mind had wandered. I smiled at him in quiet reassurance and he smiled back, still chewing in surprised satisfaction.

"This is great, Charlie," Edward remarked, placing another forkful between his lips. I took another small bite, still lingering in the memory, searching it for clues, indicators of what was to happen only months later.

"Thanks. I don't cook much anymore but the occasion called for it so I thought, what the hell," Charlie replied, his fork scraping against his plate as he spoke. This sparked my awareness and I looked at him sharply.

"Occasion? What occasion?" I asked now, curious as to what would bring him out of his food preparation embargo.

"Well, I wanted to talk to you," Charlie began. "About the future."

"Oh, that," I said quietly, forcing myself to take another bite of the pasta, the cheese now thick in my throat, and I drank from my glass of water in an attempt to force myself to swallow.

"What are your plans after graduation?" Charlie boldly asked. I hesitated in my response, not because I was worried about what Charlie might say when I told him I would be moving to New York two weeks before my nineteenth birthday with my boyfriend, but because I was worried about what he might _not_ say. What if he didn't care? What if he just shrugged it off and moved on to the next topic, bringing up the abnormal amount of rain we had apparently been experiencing this time of year? I mean, I didn't want to fight him for permission or anything, but I wanted to know that my time here had meant something to him, that I had somehow accomplished what I had set out to do in coming to Forks.

"Well, um, you know Edward's going to New York after graduation. He's applied to the Italian Culinary Academy," I began, looking at Edward for encouragement, his eyes pleasant and warm and reminding me that this was truly what I wanted, no matter what Charlie's reaction was.

I took a deep breath, looking back at Charlie as I said the words, "I'm going to go with him. To New York. I'm moving to New York in September." There was a conviction in my voice that startled even me as I observed Charlie's reaction.

"New York?" Charlie frowned slightly, pursing his lips as he slowly nodded his head. "Are you going to go to school there too?"

"Yes, sir," Edward responded for me. "It's part of the plan, for Bella to enroll in college for a semester while I'm at the academy. It's why we have to go in September. The program at the Academy doesn't start until the middle of October but Bella's going to start class in September so we'll be leaving before that."

Charlie was quiet, his fork abandoned by his plate. He looked so forlorn, so…sad, a melancholy melody starting to worm its way into my awareness. I suddenly felt uneasy, worried that I had upset him, and while I had wanted him to care, I didn't think the news would make him sad. I had foreseen excited, worried, irate, and, of course, indifferent, but sadness was the last emotion I had expected to see worn upon my father's face.

"You didn't consider anywhere else? Anywhere closer?" Charlie mumbled, and I shook my head, the thought incomprehensible. We either both went to New York, or we both stayed. There wasn't anything to consider.

Charlie nodded, clearing his throat again. He sighed. "Well, that's a damn shame," Charlie said after a while. "I'll probably starve to death you know. Who's going to save me next time I try to operate the stove?" Charlie's mustache twitched into a hint of a smile and I eased slightly at the brightening in his eyes. He picked up his fork, dipping into the pasta once again.

"You'll be fine, Dad," I said quietly. "You're a great cook. You really should do it more often."

"Yeah, I guess it's been long enough." Charlie continued to eat quietly, the mood of the meal more melancholy now. I was glad that I had told Charlie, glad that he knew of the plan now and that he had accepted it. But there was something bothering me about the way his eyebrows were creased now, how the brown of his wide, familiar eyes seemed to liquefy at my mention of moving. I had to admit, in making my decision I hadn't thought to include Charlie's feelings. I hadn't thought it necessary, especially considering the fact that he hadn't thought it necessary to consider mine when he chose to remain vacant from my life all those years. I didn't owe him anything, especially my consideration. Now, in this moment, I found myself thinking about what he must be feeling, not because I had to, but because I wanted to. At this point it didn't matter what we had done in the past, the shit he had put me through or the reasons behind it, nor the shit I had put myself through because of it and the fact that I would never let him know the damage he had done. None of it mattered, because, right now, I was a child telling my parent that I was going to leave him and he was a father letting his grown-up daughter go.

…

**EPOV**

"_I'm dreaming of a white Christmas,"_ Emmett was singing again, an obnoxious Dean Martin impersonation, lowering his voice and causing it to reverberate in a false vibrato. He had put that fucking CD on repeat when he got here, claiming nobody does Christmas like Dino, and while I had to agree, I was so fucking sick of him singing.

"Fucking can it, Emmett, I swear to God. I will seriously shove that CD down your throat if you don't stop singing." Rosalie, surprisingly, came to my rescue, shouting at him from her seat at the kitchen table. Esme had put her to work, placing stacks of cookies in Christmas tins for the neighbors. Pizzelles, flat and delicate doily-patterned anise cookies, almond biscotti dipped in chocolate, butter cookies with walnuts rolled in powdered sugar, a vanilla glazed butter cookie with sprinkles, and a double chocolate espresso brownie, thick and gooey and wrapped in plastic for freshness.

It was Christmas Day and I was busy preparing dinner. Emmett and Rosalie had arrived last night and we had all gone over to Bella's for a Christmas Eve fish dinner. I had made a roasted baccala with bell peppers to contribute to the meal while Charlie bombarded us with spaghetti alle vongole, fried calamari, and giant king salmon steaks grilled to perfection and served with an antipasto salad and, of course, penne with marinara for Bella. It was a pretty impressive spread and we had all crammed into Charlie's kitchen and living room, eating off of paper plates and just fucking enjoying the good food and good friends. The holidays were always my favorite time of the year. There were so many opportunities to try out new recipes and expand on holiday favorites, and now that I felt I could possibly make a difference with my cooking, I was fucking excited to try out some of my health conscious recipes for the traditional Christmas dinner.

This morning had been our typical Christmas morning. Esme always made sweet yeast bread that she stuffed with candied cherries and pineapples and coated with a frosting glaze. She called it candy cane because she twisted the bread to look like the peppermint treat, and this was our breakfast along with homemade eggnog with whipped cream. Esme still insisted on filling our stockings with goodies, usually toiletries and small gifts. This year my stocking consisted of the usual chocolate Santa, a toothbrush, and a pair of Rudolph boxers, but it also contained a new set of measuring cups and spoons and a new apron, my old black one tattered and horribly faded from innumerable washes. I also received the typical winter clothes: jeans, sweaters, gloves and thick socks. This year, Carlisle and Esme had gotten me a new knife set for the Academy. They were so fucking beautiful, their shiny black handles and silver blades glistening, and I just wanted to spend the day cutting shit up, hacking my way though endless amounts of vegetables and fruits and whatever else I could get my hands on. Instead, I folded them up and stored them away for October.

Carlisle and Esme always forbade us from buying them presents and, well, since money had suddenly become an issue with the whole moving to New York thing happening in September, I didn't protest this year. In fact, Alice decided to have a make-it-yourself Christmas. She defined the competition, the rules simply stating that any and all presents had to be homemade. You could buy supplies, but the challenge was to create a personalized gift spending the least amount of money. Surprisingly, Emmett and Rosalie didn't argue. I thought maybe Emmett would pitch a fit, he still thinks he's fucking eight years old at Christmas and that he should have a huge stack of presents beside his stocking when he wakes up. If I didn't know better I would have thought he still fucking believed in Santa and shit.

Neither one of them had said a word, agreeing without much persuasion, but then again, Emmett was never one to turn down a challenge.

Bella had made everyone t-shirts, buying the iron-on transfers from the craft store and then using Carlisle's computer and printer to create the images. She worked on it this past week in secrecy, just her and Esme. She wouldn't even let me see what she was putting on the damn shirts and they were already wrapped and placed underneath our tree.

I didn't know what the others had decided to do, but I was playing to my strengths. I made them food. I made each of them a dish that I knew was their favorite and wrapped it up real tight and froze it. Yeah, I had been cooking for a fucking month, since Thanksgiving really but, shit, I didn't know how to do anything else. I had made Emmett a meatloaf, Alice, minestrone, Jasper, tex mex chili complete with a bag of Fritos, and chicken salad for Rosalie. Of course, I had to do something special for Bella. Bella got a breakfast of her choice on the first morning we awoke together in our apartment in New York. Yeah, I had found us an apartment close to the student housing unit they used for the Academy. It was only about thirty-five minutes by subway and we could make the trip together if she scheduled her classes right. I hadn't placed a deposit or anything because it was still, like, nine months away and I hadn't actually been accepted into the school yet, but I put my name on a waiting list and the lady I talked to on the phone said that apartments opened up all the time because a lot of students lived in the complex. The rent was decent, not great but manageable, and they'd let us do a short-term lease and, yeah, we'd only have a studio but, shit, it was something we could make work.

I checked the potatoes boiling on the stove top, piercing one with a fork to see if it was soft. I had already steamed the cauliflower and pureed the vegetable in the food processor. I was going to mix the two for an altered mashed potato, adding garlic and parmesan cheese to the mixture for a richer flavor. Cauliflower was a great alternative to potato, resembling the starch in texture, but with a higher nutritional value.

I had prepared Cornish game hens instead of the traditional fatty ham or boring turkey, roasting the birds in a mixture of olive oil and onion, infused with sage and thyme and salt and pepper to taste. I steamed all the vegetables, brussel sprouts and chestnuts, then lightly sautéed them with the hens to coat in the oil and herb mixture. I used the rest of the oil from the hens to make a cider gravy, blending the oil with Dijon mustard, sparkling apple cider and nonfat sour cream.

I had even made stuffing, cubing an entire loaf of whole wheat French bread mixed with pecans and raisins. I then softened some diced apples, celery and parsley in a small amount of olive oil, and in continuing with the harvest flavors, used sage and thyme again to season, moistening the stuffing with a low sodium vegetable broth. I had prepared a simple Waldorf salad, the chopped apples and grapes flowing with the rest of the menu and there you had it, one hell of a fucking Christmas dinner.

Every element of the meal was saturated with nutrition and no one would ever even know it.

…

When Bella and Charlie arrived that evening, I had already set everything on the table in the dining room and managed to shower and change into my Christmas attire of black slacks and a green sweater. Alice had spread out a gold tablecloth and had set each seat with a complete place setting using Esme's gold rimmed china and silverware set upon red silk napkins. Goblets of water and wine glasses were set at each place, a few bottles of wine mixed in with the sparkling apple cider. In the center of the table she had placed an arrangement of pine cones and branches cut from the bottom of our Christmas tree, and when combined with the half a dozen cinnamon sticks, the smell filling the room was palpable. It was divine, the aroma of the hens and stuffing mixed with the woodsy evergreen fragrance of the centerpiece, and I could actually feel that these scents represented family and friends, but more importantly, closure. Christmas brought forth a new year, a winter solstice, the end of a period in time, but it also paved the way for another. That's what I felt when I inhaled these aromas: change.

When I opened the front door to greet Bella, she was beaming, her deep brown eyes peering into mine, her nose and cheeks pink from the cold and enhanced by her dark hair damp around her face. She was wearing a new coat, a red, knee length wool pea coat that flared slightly at the waist, skirting out around dark gray wool slacks, the cuffs folded over black boots.

Charlie was behind her dressed in one of his suits, his broad face creased and weathered as he walked through the door, a light sheen upon his forehead. He shook my hand before moving into the family room where Carlisle and Esme were already enjoying a glass of wine. Rosalie and Emmett had brought down the chess set and had set it up at the kitchen table, an epic game in progress, while Jasper and Alice watched that movie with the kid and the BB gun that had been on continually since last week.

"Hey," Bella said, wrapping her arms around my neck and squeezing tightly, her cold fingers on the back of my neck.

"Hi. Merry Christmas," I whispered into her ear as I squeezed her back, the jacket bulky under my fingers and prohibiting me from feeling her properly. "Why aren't you wearing gloves?"

I pulled away, taking her hands between mine and rubbed furiously to warm them up.

"I forgot to buy some. Alice had told me to buy some and I totally forgot. It's my first official winter in Forks, you know," she responded. Charlie had given Bella money for Christmas to buy some desperately needed winter clothes and Alice had taken her to Port Angeles to shop last week. Bella had already modeled all her outfits for me, of course, and while I loved the way Bella's new clothes hugged her new shape, I liked the way they looked on my bedroom floor even more.

She took off her coat and I sighed in pleasure as I saw the tight black turtleneck sweater. Fuck, she knew I loved that one, I wouldn't be surprised if she'd worn it on purpose. In fact, the fucking shit eating grin plastered all over her face as she removed her coat proved exactly that. She looked hot and she knew it and she loved what it was doing to me.

Well, two could play at that game.

As she started to walk into the family room I grabbed her arm. Startled, she looked up at me, wondering what I could need, when very slowly I brought my hand to run through her hair, weaving it into the base of her neck, tilting her head and placing a small, delicate kiss right below her ear.

"You look absolutely delicious in that sweater, Bella," I whispered into her ear, allowing my lips to graze her flesh but not making full contact. I could see her chest heaving as her breathing increased, blood rushing to the surface of her skin, the blush creeping across her cheeks. I chuckled into her neck as I pulled away, taking her hand in mine and gently kissing her fingers before pulling her into the family room. I knew she would retaliate at some point and I couldn't fucking wait.

We filed into the dining room, sitting around the table and filling our plates, the conversation waning as silverware clinked against china. Bella chose her food carefully, still staying away from meat, eating the potato cauliflower mixture instead, as well as lots of salad and a small amount of stuffing. She left behind the brussel sprouts, curling her nose as I passed the dish to her, passing it straight on to Alice without even giving them a second glance.

"Aren't you going to try the brussel sprouts?" I asked her, a little curious as to her avoidance.

"No, brussel sprouts are yucky," she responded quietly, taking a small bite of her salad, spearing a bit of the yogurt covered apple and grape with the leaf of romaine.

"How do you know _my_ brussel sprouts are yucky if you've never tried them?" I pressed. I'd never seen her turn down a vegetable, she ate them all. I was a little worried as to why she wasn't eating these fucking brussel sprouts.

"Edward, let it go," she said, pinching my leg with her left hand and sending me a very clear message. I stopped my protest but she didn't remove her hand, it still resting lightly on my thigh, and I feared that payback was going to be merciless tonight. I tried to focus on the conversation now rather than Bella's eating habits or her hand on my thigh, dangerously close to a particularly easily aroused erogenous zone.

"There's this vocational program at the school that actually lets you get some hands-on experience on the field, like with real trainers." Emmett was talking to Charlie about school and Charlie was, as usual, responding with silent nods and grunts.

"How are your classes, Rosalie?" Charlie asked.

"Huh?" Rosalie looked up from her plate, unusually quiet as she pushed her food around her plate.

"How are you liking the college experience?" Charlie asked again, taking a sip of water from his glass.

"Oh, it's really great. I have some really great professors. It's great," Rosalie smiled, turning her attention back to her plate. Well, that was fucking weird. Usually, Rosalie loves to talk about herself.

"She's doing really well in her classes," Emmett spoke up. "I'm really proud of her." Emmett looked at Rosalie, all fucking gooey gaga eyed and shit. What the fuck was going on here? Is this what happens in college? I don't think I've ever heard Emmett say he was proud of anything unless it was preceded by him talking about his dick or really impressive flatulence.

Something was going on here.

Suddenly, Bella spoke from her chair beside me, "So, um, did you guys see that movie with the kid with the BB gun was on, like, a hundred times this week? You know, I've never actually seen the whole movie. Just the part with the mashed potatoes and then that leg that's a lamp. Weird, huh?" She went back to eating, filling her mouth with potatoes, and I turned my head to look at her. She just smiled as she chewed, moving her hand the length of my thigh back and forth. What was with everybody today?

Bella's little synopsis prompted further conversation of Christmas movies, The Grinch my personal favorite, but I was unable to interject. I was still wondering why everyone was acting so fucking bizarrely.

After dinner we assembled in the formal sitting room, the large tree atop a mass of gifts, brightly colored lights glowing from each branch, ribbons and ornaments expertly placed and encompassing every empty space so that you could hardly tell that there was a tree underneath all that shit. Esme took great pride in decorating for Christmas, add to that Alice's propensity to follow a theme and well, this tree looked like it should be in one of those fucking magazines.

Charlie left before we opened presents, Bella asking if I could take her home later and, of course, I agreed. She walked him to the car before returning to hand out her wrapped packages to us all.

"I want to go first because it's been killing me keeping these a secret from you guys. They're all the same so you all have to open them together," Bella said, taking a seat by me on the chaise. Simultaneously, we all tore into our packages. Inside were white shirts with blue sleeves and a crest across the chest. I had seen it before: three clovers, a lion, and a hand. It was the crest hanging in the hallway upstairs. The Cullen crest.

I turned the shirt over and printed there in block lettering was the name CULLEN. They all said Cullen, even Jasper's and Rosalie's, because even though they didn't bear the name, they were part of our family, our team. Yeah, this shirt was fucking awesome.

"Esme helped," Bella said.

"It was her idea, I just helped get the image," Esme responded, looking pleased nonetheless.

"Oh, hell yeah! I am so wearing this, like, all next week." Emmett pulled his shirt over the collared shirt he was wearing, admiring the crest and the fit. "How does it look, babe?" he asked Rosalie, who had folded hers up in a neat little bundle, her fingers tracing the lettering on the back of the shirt.

She looked up at her dumbass boyfriend and fucking started crying. "Excuse me," she said, running from the room.

Bella got up, "I'll go see if she's okay," she said, walking quickly after her. Since when did Bella give a fuck about Rosalie? Weird shit was definitely going down and it was starting to get ridiculous.

"She'll be fine in a minute," Emmett said, digging under the tree for his gifts. He passed the little bags around to everyone, leaving Bella's on the seat next to me. "These are from me and Rose because I suck at making stuff and you wouldn't want that shit anyways, so here you go."

Inside the bag was a neatly knitted beanie. It was incredibly soft and I pulled it onto my head at once. I didn't even know Rose could fucking knit.

Alice had gotten a scarf, the bright colors striking against her pale skin. She wrapped it around her neck, reveling in the colors and softness of the yarn as Esme came over to inspect the pattern. Jasper also got a beanie, like mine only blue, and I assumed that Bella would have a scarf.

Bella and Rosalie returned and I got up to give Rose a hug and thank her for the gift. Bella opened her bag and, as I suspected, a striped scarf fell from the wrappings. She held it up to admire the colors and then wrapped the scarf around her neck, the earthy tones blending in nicely with her dark hair and eyes.

Jasper then passed his gifts around, a square envelope holding a CD. He fucking made mixed tapes, but, you know, on a CD. I read the insert he had put with mine: Stones, Doors, Hendrix, Zeppelin, all my favorites, and then some others I didn't recognize, probably bands he thought I might like. It was a pretty wicked mix, perfect for running.

"Who's Joan Baez?" Bella asked, reading the insert in her envelope.

"She's another folk singer. Since you already have all the Joni albums I had to stretch to find music for you. So I compiled a bunch of artists that I think are comparable to her. Carly Simon, James Taylor, Janis Joplin, they're all pretty essential," Jasper responded, shrugging his shoulders.

I brought out my gifts from the freezer, plastic containers and bundles wrapped in foil and labeled with a black sharpie. I handed them out to my family and I noticed Bella's questioning face when I didn't hand her one. Instead I just whispered one word into her ear, "Later." She nodded, giving me a small smile as she watched the others read the labels.

"Meatloaf! Sweet! I was seriously getting sick of macaroni and cheese and hot dogs," Emmett said, and Rosalie gave him the look of death.

Alice's gifts were next and she handed out a little black book to each of us. Inside were pictures, black and white stills, frames from the past: Alice and I when we first moved here, Emmett and I playing Xbox, Bella and I at prom, Bella bowling, everyone camping, various pictures from my time in Forks, and I realized that in my life I had never been as happy as I was in these photographs, as I am here in Forks, in this house, with this family. I spent a shitload of my time worrying about the future or shaken and tortured by the fucking past. I don't think I ever just sat and enjoyed the present.

…

"I think Charlie might pay for my school." Bella was laying on her side on my bed, her striped socks rubbing against my own under the comforter, the warm flannel sheets pulled up around us. I mirrored her position, our hands meeting between our bodies as I traced patterns onto her soft hand. I traced each crease in her knuckles, every line of her palm, twining and twisting our fingers together in a gentle touch.

"Why do you say that?" I asked sleepily, yawning through my words. It was past midnight and everyone had retreated to their rooms for rest, Emmett and Rosalie staying in the guest bedroom downstairs. I was going to have to take Bella home, but I didn't want her to leave me just yet, and fuck it was cold. We kept finding excuses to stall and I was thinking that she should have told Charlie she was staying over.

"He said he had some money saved and that I could use it for school if I wanted," she responded, her large eyes fixated on our hands.

I sat up, perplexed by her casual attitude.

"What do you mean might? That sounds an awful lot like _will_ pay for your school," I said, wondering where the confusion was coming from.

She sat up too, crossing her legs and pulling the comforter up around her lap. "I know, but I feel weird taking Charlie's money." She shrugged her shoulders and it totally made fucking sense because this was exactly the way I felt about Carlisle's money, though probably not for the same reasons. Carlisle had already given me so much, there was no way I could ask him for any more help.

But it sure would make shit a lot easier. If Charlie hadn't offered I would have said forget it but, fuck, he _offered_.

"Do you realize how much this would help us, though? If Charlie were to pay for your school, that's money we wouldn't have to spend, a loan we don't have to get," I said quietly. Bella was a very independent person and I knew how she hated to accept help but, fuck, this move was going to be hard enough as it was.

"I just don't want Charlie to think that's why I came to Forks, or that he needs to repay me for taking care of him. I just wanted to do what a decent daughter would do," Bella tried to explain.

"Charlie knows you're not here for his money, he wants to help. It's what good parents do. Let him be your father for once, Bella," I told her, but I could still see the apprehension in her face, stress in her chocolate colored eyes. "Bella, whatever you decide, we'll make it work. If I have to work nights, if you have to get a student loan, whatever we have to do, it will be fine, because it's what we want, right?"

She nodded, a small smile on her lips as she closed her eyes, pulling her hair away from her face.

I got up off the bed and got a piece of paper from my dresser. It was time to give Bella her Christmas present. I casually handed her the paper and she took it from my hand, looking at me in confusion before turning her attention to it.

Her eyes scanned the sheet and at first I didn't think she understood, but then I saw her eyes flicker and her lip twitch and I knew she was putting it together, but she was taking too long and the information had been trying to burst from my lips ever since I found the apartment.

"Your Christmas present is breakfast, whatever you'd like. In our apartment. In _that_ apartment," I said, pointing to the picture on the paper.

She looked up at me with tears in her brown pools and suddenly I was surrounded by warm, soft, brown, lavender. Bella had crashed into me, throwing her arms around my neck and melding her body to mine. She was straddling my lap, her floral smell mixed with the spiced smells of Christmas swirling around me and blurring my mind. She pressed her lips to mine, her hands frantically twisting into my hair, and I ran my hands up her back, pulling at her tight sweater clinging to her frame because I had to get closer. I wrapped my arms around her waist pulling her closer to me, feeling her breasts pressed against my chest and her twisting hips as she writhed against me, pressing into my now swelling dick as she moved her hands to the hem of my sweater. My breath trapped in my throat and I was just fucking dying for her to touch me some more. She lifted the heavy cotton sweater and thin undershirt together over my head, removing her lips from mine for just an instant as the fabric passed between us.

She connected her lips instead to my jaw, furiously kissing down my neck, little licks across the skin as she ran her hands down my chest and over my abdomen, her fingers pressing and clutching at the flesh, but I wanted more. I wanted our skin pressed together, warm and sliding, and I quickly stripped her of her sweater, exposing her breasts confined in a small black satin bra and the fine lines of her tiny belly and the top curve of her hips, and I absorbed her with my eyes, licking my lips before pressing the side of my face against the round fullness of her chest. Reaching behind her and unlatching her bra to let it fall off her shoulders, I brought my lips to adorn the creamy softness of her breasts. I kissed and licked at her nipples, the rosy flesh hardening beneath my touch, and I looked up to see Bella's face as her hair fell around my fingers on her bare back, her head tilted and eyes closed, her dark lashes spread out about her cheeks. Her lips were swelled and plump and slightly parted as her breaths escaped in quick gasps around her white teeth. God, she was so fucking beautiful, and I took a moment to bathe in her quiet radiance.

Noticing the pause while I was adoring, she opened her eyes to find me staring at her, and I was going to tell her how beautiful she looked but she quickly brought her mouth to mine, pushing her tongue into my mouth and rolling around my mouth as she slid her hands to the waistband of my slacks. With a few quick movements she pulled my pants and boxers down over my hips as I lifted myself off the bed to aide in the task. I returned the favor, pushing the thick material of her pants down her legs and soon we were both naked, her body grinding against mine as I pressed into her, her warm wetness surrounding me, engulfing me as she rocked her hips back and forth across my lap.

Being inside of Bella like this was the most amazing experience and I didn't want it to end, even though I soon felt the pressure building and throbbing within me, pulsating in my back and stomach and legs, and my hands clutched at her hips, forcing her to rock faster as she ground down hard against me. I couldn't close my eyes, the image in front of me too amazing to pass up. I slid my hands up her belly, feeling every muscle contracting beneath my fingers, to the base of her breasts, massaging the full flesh gently as she adjusted her angle so that her clit was rubbing against the base of my shaft with increased pressure.

She moaned quietly, little slips of pleasure from her lips, and I saw her slide her hand down between her legs to feel our union, to feel herself, her fingers rubbing against her flesh. Fuck, when she does that, I swear, it sends me fucking spinning, the sight of her touching herself, knowing that she felt the desire, the need prompting her touch, it was so fucking sexy and I felt my orgasm close now. Luckily, I was still coherent enough to remember she wasn't on the pill anymore and we needed to be careful.

"Bella," I panted, "Bella, I'm close." Bella slipped off my lap, moving down to place her full mouth around my dick saturated with her fluid and tasting herself on me. Holy fucking shit! I groaned loudly and it just urged her to move her mouth quicker, her tongue gliding along every ridge and bend of flesh and it just felt amazing being enveloped by Bella like this, so intimate, and I couldn't peel my eyes away from her. And then her eyes met mine, brown melting into green, her lashes fluttering, and I could feel the unraveling begin to shake my frame and quiver in my thighs.

I tried to pull her off, grabbing her arm, but she shrugged me off, wrapping her hand more firmly around me now, her fingers massaging my cock. I knew what she was trying to do and I didn't know if I should let her. I fucking wanted it, to spill inside her mouth, my fluid invading as she took it into her body, allowing me to become a part of her, literally. Fuck, just the thought had brought on another trembling wave through my entire body and a growling deep in my groin. But she can't, she won't be able to. I mean, that shit would make anyone want to puke, there's no telling what would happen to Bella. She needed to stop, this needed to stop now. I gently reached down to touch her face.

"Bella…no, you...do…n't have to." I could hardly get the words out, her mouth on my skin so intoxicating. She shook her head no and continued to push and pull her mouth along my length, her hands working together with her mouth. No, I couldn't, I couldn't let her do this. I reached down and more firmly now, grabbed her arm, trying to pull her up.

Instead, she slid her mouth off me and looked up at me with fierce eyes and said in a low but exasperated voice, "Will you just let me fucking do this?"

So I did. I watched as she poised her lips around me again, pulling with her hands, and I reached down to brush her hair away from her porcelain face and across her naked back and the curve of her breast as it flowed into her ribbed side to her fleshy hip. Fuck, her body was so exquisite in the gentle orange glow of the room and I ached to run my hands all over it, invade every inch of her flesh.

Her mouth moved up and down, a lulling motion of pure gratification as the tremble growled again in the back of my stomach, and I felt the spiraling pleasure begin, panting and gasping now, a euphoric pain as I tried to suppress the impending orgasmic bliss.

Bella took her cue from me and moved with more fervor now and, unable to resist any longer, I cried a warning, uttering her name before allowing the orgasm to engulf me. I came with such sweet relief that I felt in my entire body, my stiff and reluctant muscles now flooded with ecstasy, and my entire body tingled at the feel of Bella's mouth around me, but then it was gone, her hand there instead, closed over the tip and moving along the shaft, the fluid spilling onto my stomach. Instantly, I looked down at her face, her other hand wiping her mouth and tears filling her eyes. She must have gagged or felt sick or something because the moment a bit of my fluid had entered her mouth, she had pulled away. She shook her head and I felt like a fucking asshole, like a total fucking prick for letting her try to do this knowing full well she wouldn't be able to. What the fuck was I thinking? She still hadn't said anything, just sat there, her hand on my dick and covered in the sticky mess now sprawled across my stomach, shaking her head.

I didn't know what she was feeling: embarrassed, like a failure, horrified, disgusted, but I knew I couldn't continue to let her feel that way. I wanted to kiss her, pull her into my arms, pull her away from those feelings. I looked at her tearful eyes, the glistening drops trailing down her cheeks. I had caused this, the tears on her cheeks, the fucking disappointment in her eyes, it was all because of me. Bella needed me to let her know that this was okay, that she was amazing, to ease her embarrassment. Without another thought I reached down, pulling her face to mine and enveloped her mouth, tasting myself on her tongue, tasting her on her tongue, the fluids mixing with our saliva and her tears, tugging at her lips with my own as I felt her body soften and ease against mine.

"I couldn't do it. I wanted to so bad and I just…I'm so sorry, Edward. I'm so, so sorry," she cried into my neck as I pulled her into my arms awkwardly because of the mess, but she didn't hesitate. Bella pressed her naked body against me fully, kissing my neck and chest as I held her in my lap, pulling the comforter up around our bodies for warmth.

"There's nothing to apologize for, you hear me? Nothing," I kissed her head and she turned her gaze to me, placing her soft lips to mine. "You are amazing, Bella. So brave, so giving. I can't stand to see you beat yourself up like this." I lightly touched her face, softly dragging my fingers across her lips and her cheeks.

She sighed and wiped her cheeks with her clean hand, brushed the hair from her face and brought her head to rest on my shoulder.

"I love you," she said, snuggling into my chest again.

"And I love you," I murmured into her hair, inhaling her in.

We cleaned up as best we could without getting in the shower; this house was fucking full of people, people who would know exactly what the fuck had transpired between us if they heard my shower running at two in the morning.

When I finally took Bella home before dawn, the rain had stopped but an ominous fog was rolling through the town. Electricity was in the air, the weather people talk about before a great storm or a tornado, the sky not even visible through the thick haze. I drove slowly, carefully looking for patches of ice as Bella sat tense beside me. When we arrived at her house I walked her up to the door, her hot breath fogging around her face as we whispered I love you's before she disappeared behind her door.

As I drove home I felt the chill in the air biting straight to my bones. It was fucking freezing and I was actually quite surprised it hadn't snowed. We didn't get much snow in Forks, its elevation is too low and there's too much moisture in the air from its proximity to the ocean. But once in a while we get a good blizzard, bringing a couple of feet of snow that melts quickly into a mixture of slush and ice. The wind howled in the trees, the fog creeping into every crevice of the sleeping town, and I drove quickly in my exhausted state, not wanting to get stuck in the roaring rain. Living in Forks you learned to pay attention to the weather because if you didn't you could find yourself stranded in a freezing sheet of sleet and hail. This morning, all the signs were there, a blaring indication of what was on the horizon. A storm. A storm was coming.

…

Joni Songs Referenced:

_Come in From the Cold_

_Little Green_

_River_

_The Circle Game _ and…

Dean Martin…le sigh…_White Christmas_

What's going on in your brain today?? Share, lovelies!


	21. Nothing Lasts for Long

**Darlings,**

Thank you, sweet, sweet readers, for lovely words and kind comments. I appreciate them so much.

The storm is here, my dears. Be brave.

Lovely beta **n7of9**, your editing skills are truly divine,

this particular chapter was really fucking tough, and for all your help, I can't thank you enough.

Disclaimer: I don't own it.

**CH 21 "Nothing Lasts for Long"**

**BPOV**

What the fuck was I thinking? Oh my God, I felt like such an idiot, like a stupid, dumbshit idiot. I can't believe I tried to do that, to swallow, fucking swallow his spunk. Bella, you fucking idiot, you can't even swallow hot dogs, or chicken, or a wide variety of dairy products, why, oh, why would you think you could swallow _that_?

Stupid, stupid, stupid Bella.

I turned over to lie on my back, pulling my comforter up under my chin, unable to fall asleep. The mournful wind caused the large spruce outside to scratch against my bedroom window, a biting chill crept in through the nearly invisible cracks between the panes, so loud now I could barely hear the murmur of Charlie's television, still blaring from his bedroom.

I had entered the house to find the couch abandoned and I found myself thankful as all fuck that tonight of all nights Charlie had chosen to return to his bed. I was shitting myself as I silently unlocked the front door thinking of that first time Edward brought me home after staying out all night. The difference was that this time Charlie knew where I was and who I was with, but still, I didn't want to face him as I was sneaking in the house at five in the morning, ripe with fornication.

Surprised to find an empty couch, I had peeked in his bedroom to see him in his bed, the television blaring as usual and, not wanting to wake him up, I crept to my room, threw on my sweats and collapsed into my bed. My body was exhausted, my mind annoyingly awake, the whole blow job ordeal replaying in my head over and over again. The day had really been pretty interesting, to say the least. Charlie had made pancakes for breakfast and we watched the typical Christmas morning programming on TV. Charlie had already given me money for Christmas for winter clothes, saying I would never survive a Forks winter in my current wardrobe and Alice had helped me make the money stretch, taking me to one of her favorite thrift stores in Port Angeles last week. I had thought about just saving the cash as Edward and I were going to need every penny, but I desperately needed new clothes and shoes, finding that heavier threads really were essential for survival.

I didn't expect any other gifts, but Charlie had filled a stocking with a bunch of stuff: perfumes, soaps, sweet smelling candles, candy canes, and a pair of red and white striped socks. This stuff was trivial and not really needed, but it was the fact that Charlie had thought to put together a stocking for me that had made it special. Just like when I was a kid, the stockings were hung from the banister of the stairs and I found comfort in the fact that Charlie had remembered this, proving to me that he hadn't completely destroyed the memories of a time when he had been a husband and a father.

I didn't really have any money to get Charlie a gift so I cleaned every room in the house instead. I scrubbed the kitchen counters and sink, wiping the residue of pancake batter from the stove. I wiped the fine layer of dust from the pictures hanging in the living room, my parents' young and expectant faces peering at me from behind the film. I conditioned the wooden floors by getting on my hands and knees and rubbing the waxy cleaning solution into the grain and attempting to buff out scratches and scuffs. I cleaned the toilets and tiles in the bathroom and changed the sheets on Charlie's bed, even though they hadn't been used in months. I was exhausted but finished by lunch, my diligence paying off as I was done earlier than planned.

We had vegged around the house the rest of the day, I read some from my book and Charlie eventually found a movie he liked, that one with the kid with BB gun. He sat on the couch and laughed, a low chuckle echoing in the small space as he watched. Pulling the remainder of the laundry from the dryer, I put together an outfit from my newly washed clothes, choosing a black clingy sweater that I knew Edward was particularly fond of.

Charlie drove us to the Cullens' house in his car and I was ridiculously eager to see Edward and even more excited for everyone to see the shirts I had made for them. Esme had helped me find the family crest at one of those genealogy websites. It kind of became our project and before I could say anything, she had purchased the t-shirts and the transfers and had already made one as a sample. She gave it to me as my own with a smile and a wink and I took it home with me to sit with my flannel and my bracelet, more physical manifestations of my eclectic, multifaceted family. _"You are in my blood like holy wine..."_

When we had arrived at the Cullens' I was more than curious to see Rosalie. She had to be about four or five months pregnant by now and I couldn't wait to see if her body had changed or talk to her to see what was going on. I had walked in to find her at the table with Emmett and I saw no evidence of said pregnancy - at first. It wasn't until she stood up to walk into the dining room that I noticed the slight curve of her stomach beneath her gathered, silky shirt. Her figure looked unchanged to the casual observer, but when she moved a certain way or if her shirt pulled across her stomach just so, you could definitely make out a round fullness to her belly.

Christmas dinner had been amazing, as usual, and Edward had watched what I ate, as usual. This didn't bother me as much as the persistent coaxing did. He tried to make me try the brussel sprouts and I didn't want to. Not because I was trying to avoid food, but because I honestly just think they're disgusting and it annoyed the shit out of me that he wouldn't just fucking let it go. I didn't say anything though, just kindly pinched the fuck out of his thigh and this caused the questioning to cease.

Charlie left after dinner claiming he felt a bit tired and I walked him out to his car before returning to the house, eager to hand out my gifts, my stomach a little nervous in anticipation. When they had finally opened them they all seemed pretty pleased, Edward smiling at the crest, Emmett throwing his on over his shirt, even Alice approved, claiming it would be perfect for the next camping trip. Everyone was pleased, except Rosalie. Tears erupting from her eyes, she ran from the room and I instantly knew that this had to be baby related, and since I didn't think anyone else was privy to that information and it was my present that prompted the tears, I followed her.

Rose was in the guest bathroom and I knocked on the door asking her if I could come in. I heard a muffled yes and I opened the door to find her blotting her eyes with a tissue.

"Are you okay?" I asked her. She looked at me, rolling her eyes and went back to blotting at her face.

"What the fuck do you mean by that?" she responded, her nose stuffy from the tears.

"I actually just wanted to know how you were doing, with the um…" I couldn't bring myself to say the words for some reason. I just couldn't spit it out. I could say it now, baby, pregnancy, fetus, budding soul now dwelling within your womb. See, it was easy to put words to it now. Instead I had just pointed to her belly, indicating what I meant.

"So, you can tell?" Rosalie had asked me, her face stricken with worry.

"No. I mean, only because I was paying attention. No, you look exactly the same." Rosalie breathed a sigh of relief, wiping her nose with the tissue.

"Good. We're going to see my parents tomorrow, they still don't know," Rosalie said. "I'm waiting until the last possible moment to tell them.

"How many…months…are you?" I felt like a total idiot. I had no fucking clue if I was even using the right terminology.

"Twenty one weeks. Five months. I'm due at the beginning of May," Rosalie said, excitement hinting her voice.

"So Emmett knows, right? Since you're planning on having it." I asked her, the words not really a question, more of an assumption.

"Of course, Emmett knows. Fuck, Bella, what kind of a person do you think I am?" Rosalie scoffed. She smiled as she inspected her makeup in the mirror. "That was a rhetorical question, by the way, so you can stop calculating your clever comeback." She wiped the mascara that had smudged beneath her lashes, using the tip of her manicured fingers, the red of her nails swiping across her cheeks.

I smiled back at her, relieved because all the witticisms I was coming up with were sounding pretty pathetic, even in my own head.

"I'm sorry the shirt upset you," I said, folding my hands behind my back.

"It wasn't the shirt, really." Rosalie smoothed the pleats of her blouse, looking at her reflection from the side, her hands folding over her belly. "It's the concept, you know? Being a Cullen. It's all I've ever wanted, like, since kindergarten; plus, these hormones have got me all fucked up, you know, feeling emotions or whatever, and then the fact I have to face my parents tomorrow, I don't know, I'm just totally fucked up right now."

"It's okay to be fucked up, you're kind of dealing with a lot. New apartment, new school, new…thing," I had pointed again to her belly, still unable to say the word. Baby. Baby. Baby. Yep, I could still say it fine now.

"It's a baby, Bella. You act like it's contagious or something. You can say baby and not get pregnant you know. Oh my God! You know how babies are made, right?" Rosalie looked at me with wide eyes, a feigned look of stunned pity upon her face. The emotionfest over, I opened the door to leave.

"Bella?" Rosalie had said, stopping me and I turned to face her.

"Thanks," she had said, not meeting my eyes.

"Anytime Rose," I replied, and left to rejoin the group still opening presents in the sitting room.

The presents were brilliant, not because of the actual items, but because of the amount of care and thought that went into each gift. Alice's photo book was by far my favorite, the pictures of my time in Forks peering at me from the pages. She had taken a photo of the school day-smoking restroom, the building gracing the front cover, and I had flipped through the pages in awe of the faces I saw; Edward's smiling eyes amazingly vivid despite the lack of color and the lines of his face shadowed and striking in the monochromatic color scheme. There were pictures of the four of us from prom, the night Edward discovered my secret, pictures Esme had taken while we celebrated Edward's birthday, the night I let Edward watch me puke, all of these fun and pretty pictures overshadowed by something inside me that was so ugly, something that picture by picture I could see blending into the contrast. While I hated that bathroom, I loved the conversations that took place there, the sister that I had found in that dreaded place. While I was petrified that night at prom, just fucking horrified for Edward to find out about my disorder, I had found such freedom, such relief in the exposure. And while I had never wanted anyone to ever see me at the very epitome of my self-disgust, accepting Edward's help had shown me that I didn't have to be solitary in this, I didn't have to do it on my own. _"Then he comes home and he takes me in his loving arms…"_

When Edward didn't give me a meal, I was a little perturbed. I thought it might have had something to do with the eating disorder and at first I was totally pissed, but then he had indicated he would give me my present later and I had no idea what this could possibly mean. I had completely forgotten about it when he handed me a sheet of paper and it wasn't until he said something that I fully realized what he was giving me. An apartment. A fucking apartment in New York! I was beyond elated, a multitude of emotions burning into ever inch of my being: relief, surprise, excitement, anticipation, nervousness…all of them radiating and propelling me towards Edward. I couldn't even find the words to express what I was feeling. Instead, I let my actions do the communicating, pulling myself onto him and relishing in our love, our bodies connecting, a true unity of souls.

We still needed to be careful so when he told me he was close, I slid him into my mouth, resolved to share this with him, take in his fluid, his essence. I honestly thought I could do it, accept every bit of it into me, swallow it and give Edward a way to feel that close intimacy of our union without the risk of pregnancy. I wanted to be able to do it so bad, a small part of me believing that maybe, under these circumstances, my body would be able to tell the difference and the eroticism involved would be enough to overshadow my compulsive stomach.

It wasn't enough. The moment the warm fluid hit the roof of my mouth, I gagged and had to pull away, a small amount smearing on my cheek as I wrapped him in my hand just fucking prayed I wouldn't puke, begging my body to cooperate. It wasn't the thought of it or even the taste, but the actual ingesting of it that had disrupted my sensitive stomach, and I had felt the contraction in my gut at once. Of course, Edward noticed and guilt immediately consumed me; guilt because my fucking brain couldn't forget about this issue even for Edward. I closed my eyes, trying to focus on anything but the burning in my stomach, and I realized that this was never going away, no matter how bad I wanted it to. I would forever live in fear of the upcoming meal, everyone worrying about whether or not I was going to purge, critiquing my food choices, and I would never be just a fucking normal person. I mean, I couldn't even suck off my boyfriend properly without this fucking disorder messing with my head.

Never, this would never be gone, never be over, never. Tears spilled over my cheeks as I forced myself into this realization. Just like Edward was tied to his impending threat, the threat of my disorder would always there as well. It would never go away and every day for the rest of my life it would be a struggle to contain it. How could I be a partner to Edward like this, how could I give him what he deserves? He didn't deserve to have to deal with this shit, his fucking girlfriend gagging and rejecting him during something so intimate, something that was supposed to express my love, something that I wanted to give him so badly. I couldn't fucking do it.

I felt like a complete disappointment, like I'd let him down, and the fact that I couldn't give this to him was so horribly embarrassing, my failure as a lover spilled all over his lap. I didn't know what to say, I couldn't even fucking look at him.

Suddenly, he was pulling me into him, pressing his mouth to mine, and I felt his tongue slide against my mouth, the desperation radiating from him, pulling and sucking, draining me of these feelings of malice and contempt, forcing them to subside to the concentration of care and love behind Edward's lips. I collapsed into him, my body relaxing against his, skin upon skin, as I whispered urgent apologies into his neck, trying to make him understand, hopefully reassuring him that this was entirely my fault, making sure he knew he had done nothing wrong.

Instead of letting me console him, he had comforted me. He doused me with compliments: brave, amazing, giving, and I found myself speechless in quiet wonder, undeserving of the boy before me but completely consumed by his nurturing. I let his words comfort me, I let his touch melt into pure ease as I kissed his lips, the small connection dulling the worry I still harbored. I let Edward soothe me, his fingers tracing sweet relief onto my back, and I made silent promises, promising him a future, promising him success, promising him normalcy, something better, something healthy. Most of all I had promised him love.

Slipping two tiny ear buds into my ears, I put my mp3 player on shuffle and, as predicted, Joni poured from the device, her words like a beacon drawing me to safe harbor and drowning the sounds of the turmoil outside my window. I finally succumbed to the darkness of sleep. _"All muted and misty, so drowsy now I'll take what sleep I can…"_

…

I awoke quite late into the afternoon, the all night excursion cloudy in my head and making my sleep heavy and dreamless. My muscles ached as I awoke, stiff and numb, I must not have moved at all during my sleep. I stretched my limbs, Joni's voice still in my head, and I pulled the earpieces out of my ears. Rain berated my window, the constant pounding repetitively irritating, and I rolled off my bed, needing to get away from it. I groaned as I stood up, my joints sore and strained as I walked to the bathroom to pee and then shower, letting the streams of warm water wash over me as I rinsed my body clean. I stepped out of the shower, the freezing cold swallowing me before I could wrap myself in a large towel. My teeth chattered and goosebumps invaded my skin as I shakily toweled my hair dry, kicking myself that I hadn't brought clean clothes with me to the bathroom.

I stepped into the hall and heard the faint but noticeable sound of a ball game on Charlie's TV, the cheering and the announcers' banter murmuring from the set in his bedroom. I followed the sound, reminding me of my first days here, a sound I hadn't heard in many months. His bedroom door was still closed and my first thought was that he must have left the television on when he left for work.

But this wasn't normal, the TV on with the door closed, and I hesitated at the door, my frame shaking involuntarily as I placed my hand on the knob.

I quickly turned the knob, swinging the door open. It hit the wall behind it with a thud, a small indentation from the knob embedded in the drywall. My eyes settled on the TV first, the set still playing a baseball game, the players scattering across the dirt and grass as the crowd cheered. And then my gaze drifted to the bed, Charlie still nestled under the covers, his position unchanged, the bed unchanged, the room unchanged.

He hadn't moved from that spot.

He still didn't move.

I stared at his chest. I didn't see the rise and fall of steady breaths so I called out his name, unable to move from the doorframe, unwilling to enter the room.

"Charlie?" I called out, my voice hardly loud enough over the television, the fucking announcers laughing at some stupid fucking joke.

"Charlie?" I called a bit louder. My heart pounded in my chest and throbbed in my head as I awaited his response. Charlie didn't move.

"Dad?" I stepped into the room, the wood floor groaning beneath my naked feet, wet footsteps pressed into the grain. "Dad?" He didn't move.

I couldn't breathe and my chest tightened in panic as I tried to figure out what the fuck was happening. What is happening, why isn't he moving, why doesn't he hear me?

"Dad!" I yelled, thinking my volume was the problem, rushing to the television and turning it off. I turned to him, freezing, shaking, gasping, my towel still clutched around my body.

"Dad? Dad? Dad?" I had reached the bed now, looking into his fat mustached face, the lines around his purple mouth and dark circled eyes once etched deep now flaccid as I scanned his face for signs of life.

"Daddy?" I whispered, his face frozen and unflinching. My daddy didn't move.

No! No, no, no, not now. Not now, not now! No. I couldn't breathe, my heart beating in my head, the pounding deafening in the quiet house, the still thundering rain sloshing against the window. I couldn't see, my blurred eyes unable to focus, and I put my hand out to touch him. I gripped his thick arm, shaking slightly.

"Daddy?" I yelled, my head piercing from the volume. I shook hard, his arm stiff and heavy underneath my fingers. I was too weak, I could barely move his weighty hand.

"Fuck! No! Dad! Dad!" Goddamn motherfucker! Wake Up! I pounded into his chest with my fist, the thick flesh a hollow drum, my weak arm beating in vain. "Don't you fucking leave me Charlie, don't you fucking do it." I sobbed, great tears blinding and stinging, his t-shirt clutched in my fingers. I needed help, Charlie needed help.

Pulling the towel tight around my chest, I ran to my room to get the cell phone from my nightstand. I tried to turn it on but the fucking piece of shit was dead. Fuck! You have got to be kidding me! I threw the phone against the wooden floor, the splintering of plastic satisfying as I raced down the stairs, missing steps and sliding down the last three, the edge of the wooden stairs slamming into my tailbone and the middle of my back as my legs buckled beneath me. I tried to stand up, pain radiating in my back and legs as I pulled the towel around me again, frantically running to the phone in the kitchen. I picked up the phone, my hand shaking as I pushed the buttons.

"911 emergency," a woman's voice rang into my ear.

"I need help. He's not moving, I tried to wake him up and he's not moving," I said, blinded again by tears brimming in my eyes, my voice cracking into the receiver.

"Is the victim conscious?" the voice asked.

"No, no, he needs help," my voice shaking, my breath caught in my chest.

"Miss, I need your address. We're going to send a unit right away," I heard the voice ask.

"Um, it's…um…on K street. 775 K Street. It's a white house…with chipped paint… and a big spruce in the front and a red truck in the driveway and-" my voice quivering, I gasped in between descriptions, searching for markers so they wouldn't miss the house.

"Miss, we're sending a unit. Can you tell me what happened?" the voice calmly asked.

"I don't know. He was sleeping, I thought he was just sleeping. He didn't wake up. He won't wake up." I closed my eyes and Charlie's face flashed behind my lids, swollen and still, and my eyes shot open, the image fused to my brain and causing my stomach to twist and ache. "What should I do?" I asked the voice.

"Are you alone?" the voice asked.

"No, my dad's here. He needs help!" What the fuck? I thought that was obvious!

"Yes, but is there anyone else there with you?"

"No. It just the two of us," I said, but I needed someone else. I needed him now. I needed to call him, right now. "I have to go. I need to call Edward." I hung up the phone, dialing another set of numbers, my fingers calm now.

Edward answered the phone.

"Hello?" his voice smoothed over the receiver.

"He's not moving. Edward, he's not moving," I calmly said into the phone.

"Bella? Who's not moving? What's going on?"

"It's Charlie," I said quietly, a quiet static hum into the receiver.

"Charlie's not moving? Bella, is he okay?" Edward's voice was muffled and I could hear movement and rustling on the other end.

"They're sending a unit," I mumbled.

"Bella. We're on our way, okay? Just stay there. We're on our way. Is he breathing? Do you know CPR?"

"Yes. Yes. I know CPR. I can do that." I dropped the phone, rushing up the stairs again, two at a time, thankful Renee had dragged me to those classes last year. She had to be certified to teach and had made me attend the classes with her.

I reached Charlie's room breathless from the stairs and climbed onto his bed. I tightened the towel, tucking it securely under my arm, and tried to remember what I had learned. Tilt the head back, plug the nose, cover the mouth and blow. His mustache tickled my nose and I was ten years old again and he was kissing me good night, sweet tobacco and aftershave, and I breathed into my father. I breathed into him again, his chest swelling with the influx of air. Again, again, inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, forgetting the fucking numbers and just breathing into my father's mouth. Pulling away, I placed my hands on his chest and over his heart and pushed down, trying to imitate the action as I remembered. But I was weak and Charlie was large and I couldn't do it. It didn't make any difference. I didn't have enough strength. I wiped at my mouth, tears running onto my cheeks and spilling onto my father's t-shirt.

In the distance I heard a siren and I fell off the bed, stumbling to my room to look out my window, looking for a familiar vehicle, this time hoping to see the red and white blurring down the rain slicked pavement.

Flashing lights, blaring siren, the ambulance stopped outside Charlie's house, my house. Two men raced through the door carrying bags of equipment and I heard them call out as they entered the house.

I ran to the top of the stairs, "We're up here! In here!" I shouted to them and they rushed up the stairs, their feet squeaking and thundering as they ran up the steps.

They rushed into Charlie's room, stripping the bed of the blankets and sheets I had just neatly tucked there yesterday, billowing fabric flying through the air as they adjusted my father so they could better access him.

"Shit, it's Chief Swan. No pulse. I'm going to intubate." Tubes being forced into his mouth, white pads stuck to his chest, wires connecting him to a small machine, a green line buzzing on the screen.

"Miss?" He was speaking to me. I shook my head, seeing the man in front of me. "Miss, Charlie Swan is your father?"

"Yes," I breathed. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale.

"I know Charlie, I know he had surgery a couple months ago. Has he had any problems with his heart lately?"

"Um, no, he has sleep apnea and um, he takes a lot of medication for his heart. But he was okay, he was getting better." I thought of the stacks of meals piled in the freezer.

I heard a voice, "Shock advised", two stickers on Charlie's skin, his shirt cut open now, the scar from his heart surgery running down the middle of his chest. With the push of a button the electricity shocked into my father. More chest compressions, two overlapping hands pressed into his scar and then the forcing of air into his lungs. Shock advised, then compressions, then air.

And then I saw Charlie cough and sputter and turn to his side.

I saw him recovering like a miracle, getting another second chance.

I saw a graduation cap gracing my crown as he wrapped his immense arms around me, the long gold gown ruffling in the summer breeze, Charlie's hug smothering me with his soapy smell.

With a neatly tied bow tie around his neck, I saw him in black and white surrounded by rows of white tulle and orange blossoms, lilacs and freesia, my father on my arm as I carried a bouquet of white roses, my dark hair curled and flowing into creamy vintage lace. Lifting my veil, he kissed my cheek before placing my hand into Edward's.

Then at the hospital, gathered around my bed, the table beside it overwhelmed with pastel balloons and bags of fuzzy stuffed animals, all my family squeezing into the small space, and in Charlie's massive arms was a small bundle, a tiny hand wrapped around his calloused finger, his lips pressing into the tiny cheek, his mustache tickling the new skin, I'm sure.

I saw it all: at little league games giving tips for the perfect swing, at birthday parties pulling the piñata, at family camping trips, at summer barbeques, my children on his shoulders, on his lap, dancing on his feet.

"Bella? Oh my God, Bella?" A warm velvet voice behind me and then a heavy damp coat thrown over my bare shoulders.

I blinked, Charlie's room blurring back into existence. My legs shook, my teeth chattering together as I stood in the doorway.

"I'm calling it. He's cold, man. Jesus!"

The man bent over my father placed the radio to his lips. "We have a DOA, tried to resuscitate, no response. I'm calling it in to the coroner."

"Miss? Bella?" A blank face before me, strong arms around me, and I could see his lips moving, my eyes staring at his lips forming the words, tongue between teeth, but I couldn't understand. All I could hear were incoherent pieces of information: _I'm sorry…unable to revive…gone for quite a while…cardiac arrest…called in a coroner…don't disturb the body._

Tight arms surrounded me, my face engulfed by a damp t-shirt, and I breathed. A great gasp of air invading my lungs, my head swirling with honey and lilac and soap, the rain thickening the scent as it emanated from every facet of his being and sparked my awareness.

"Edward?" I looked up to find his lovely green eyes, rimmed in red, the contrast striking against his pale skin. "Your eyes look like Christmas."

"Bella, come on. You have to put some clothes on. You're skin is like ice." Edward tried to turn me away from the room but I didn't want to leave. What if Charlie woke up, he would want to see me.

"No! They're waking up Charlie. I need to be here for when he wakes up." I tried to pull myself from his arms.

"Bella…Bella…" Edward's face twisted in pain and his eyes welled over with tears as he brushed his hands through my wet hair, grasping my face between them as he kissed my forehead.

"He's not going to wake up, Bella," he gasped a sharp breath, a sob from his chest, and he held my face firmly. "He's gone. Charlie's gone."

My mother's words rang in my ears. "_Daddy's gone. He's gone." _

"Gone? Like dead gone?" I asked him aloud. Edward nodded, tears trailing down his sharp features.

I looked around me, taking in the entire room. The paramedics were sullen while packing up their equipment, shoving things neatly into their bags. Carlisle stood by the bed, Alice in his arms sobbing, his own tears slipping from his cheeks into her dark hair. The bed vacant of sheets, my father's body in the middle of the mattress, his chest still exposed, his arms pulled away from his sides. His muscles no longer strained, his skin fell in abnormal shapes, distorting his face so that I hardly recognized him. It wasn't him. It was an empty shell, a huge, broken, empty shell. I felt my breath heave in great gasps and my chest tightening, and I clutched the jacket around my frozen frame. The burning in my stomach churned, pressure welled in my head, an ache in my chest, pure agony seizing my heart, excruciating and burning right through every cell in my body. I had to get it out, I had to make it stop. My mind finally catching up with my body, I felt my body heave, my legs crumbling as I crouched on the floor sobbing, a perfectly circular pool of vomit now before me, and I wiped at my mouth with my trembling hand.

Arms lifted me from the floor and carried me into my bedroom, laying me onto the soft bed. I felt soft material moving up my legs and warm flannel pulled over my head, and then I was surrounded by arms and legs and cotton sheets, my face smothered in that sweet, sweet smell of relief. I felt my eyelids heavy with anguish, the tightness in my chest still stifling as I sobbed into Edward's t-shirt, his hands smoothing through my hair as his own body shook with grief.

I pulled my face away from his chest, wanting to see his face, to find his comforting gaze, and there it was, beautiful and all encompassing before me, soothing and easing the pounding in my brain.

"Charlie's dead, Edward," I told him, my voice raspy and unfamiliar. "He's gone."

…

**A/N**

I know bbs. Whatever you're feeling…believe me, I feel it too.

Joni Songs Referenced

_My Old Man_

_A Case of You_

_I Don't Know Where I Stand_

_Chinese Café/Unchained Melody_


	22. Let These Walls Come Tumbling Down

**Darlings**,

I love you. That is all.

A special hello and thank you to **pumpkin_ball** and **mugglemom08** for sharing their reading journey with me…big hugs to you ladies.

Thank you again, **Edwardville**, for letting me blog with yous guys! It was such great fun!

**n7of9 **is my lovely beta, there is no one greater,

Her red pen is utterly epic, and without her, this story would be totally septic.

Disclaimer: I don't own it.

**CH. 22 "Let These Walls Come Tumbling Down"**

**EPOV**

The moment I heard Bella's voice I knew something was wrong. I was in the kitchen pilfering the fridge when I heard the phone ring. There was an eerie calm in her tone that caused the hairs on my neck to prickle and filled me with an unbearable dread, the terror bursting in my veins and flooding straight to my limbs. It was Sunday and Carlisle just happened to be home so I rushed up the stairs to find him in his office.

"Something's wrong with Charlie. Bella said they're sending over a unit." My voice curdled with panic and Carlisle stood up at once, grabbed his bag and fled down the stairs. Alice, who had been reading in her room, ran into the hall to meet me.

"What's going on?" she had asked, her face strained and pale. Her hands clutched her cards, the silk scarf tangled in her fingers.

"Charlie," I said quickly, not having the time to explain. I ran down the stairs, Alice close behind, and I grabbed our coats from the hall closet, tossing Alice hers. We hopped into the Mercedes, Carlisle already behind the wheel and backing out of the driveway as the doors slammed shut.

The weather was horrible, an opaque wall of rain and fog, and it took us nearly twice as long as it would have normally because we had to go so fucking slow. There was an ambulance parked outside Charlie's house as well as a squad car, the red and orange lights reflecting off the pavement as the brilliant splash of color smeared in the flooded street.

We ran into the house, quickly surveying the downstairs area and finding it vacant. I ran up the stairs first and found a shaking, nearly naked Bella standing in the doorframe. Her hair was damp and sticking to her face and forming loops across her chest and back, a towel wrapped loosely around her shivering body, her bare feet pressed into the wooden floor. Her lips quivered, blue and taught, and dark circles encompassed her puffy eyes. I covered her with my coat and wrapped my arms around her as Carlisle and Alice pushed past us into the room just as a medic I recognized from the hospital, I think his name was Sam or something, was calling it in.

Carlisle inspected Charlie's body, pulling up his eyelids, looking for indicators of the cause, I guess, and I found myself wondering how he could do that, how he could be so close to the body of his friend and not be overwhelmed with emotion. It was part of his job, I knew, but I developed a whole new level of respect for Carlisle in that moment, realizing that he put his obligation to others before his own needs. Alice stood sobbing, shaking her hands as she cried out loud. I knew the thoughts screaming through her brain; I knew them because they paralleled my own.

_Our mother on a bed, a knife wound in her chest, a trail of blood upon her lips._ She looked like she could have been sleeping, her face quiet and blank, similar to the expression on Charlie's face now. I couldn't suppress the agony building within me and even though I wanted to resist, I had to look.

As the medic said the words over the radio, I settled my gaze on the bed, but instead of Charlie I saw my mother, the ruby trail oozing from her lips, and I felt the influx of emotion hit me like a fucking freight train as I relived that day almost three years ago. A sob welled in my chest and caused my body to shake as the memories poured into me. It was all so eerily similar, the paramedics in the corner, the bed raped of its clothes, my sister crying over an expired body in the middle of the mattress, and I had to fight the torment rising within me. I wanted to run from the room, hide some place and just cry my fucking eyes out. The sight was too familiar to stomach, awakening sentiments I had long ago silenced, thoughts I had laid to rest. But Bella needed me and so I held her, my poor sweet Bella, I held her up, fully aware of the heartache she was about to endure, the realization she was about to come to, and I only hoped my proximity would absorb some of the shock.

Sam, the medic, was going to tell her now and I readied myself for the collision.

"Miss?" he said, trying to get her attention. He wiped at his face, trying to be professional, but the emphatic sadness overwhelmed his features. "I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but we were unable to revive your father. It looks as if he had been gone for quite a while, at least twelve hours, probably from cardiac arrest. We've called in a coroner and they will be able to give you more information. It's important that you don't disturb the body before the coroner gets here."

Fuck! Twelve hours? Twelve hours ago I was giving Bella our apartment. Twelve hours ago Bella was naked in my bedroom. Twelve hours ago Charlie was going into cardiac arrest and he had been alone. I felt the burn in my eyes, the tears streaming down my face as I thought of what this was going to do to Bella. This was going to be bad, the guilt was going to kill her, destroy her, and all I wanted to do was take her into my arms and push it all away.

I just held her, fucking cursing the goddamn planet, cursing whatever Gods were listening, cursing Charlie for not taking care of himself in the first place, cursing the fucking paramedics, even thought I knew there was nothing they could have done. Finally, more vehemently than the rest, I cursed myself. I hadn't wanted to bring her home, I had begged her to stay, thought of every excuse to not let her go. I am such a fucking selfish asshole. Now her dad was dead, fucking dead, and Bella would be forever altered by this, her perfectly pure soul marred further, and I hadn't let her go home.

The medic also mentioned that there would be an investigation, pretty standard shit. He said there were some police officers downstairs who needed to ask Bella some questions and with Charlie's notoriety in this community, it was probably going to be a lengthy process. But Bella was trembling, her skin freezing to the touch, and she needed warmth, she needed to get dressed.

I pulled her face to my chest, tightening my arms around the shaking, wet body in front of me. She hadn't responded, her mind numb and wandering. Her deep brown eyes shone vacant and wide and I thought maybe she was going into shock. Her body was unresponsive to my touch and to my words but then she inhaled deeply, finally acknowledging my presence as she looked up at me, her eyes swollen and thick with grief.

"Edward?" Bella mumbled, her face contemplative and serene. "Your eyes look like Christmas." My heart wrenched open at that little phrase, the muscle gaping and flooding with sadness for this girl, my girl, because she hadn't put it together yet. She hadn't understood and it was going to have to be explained, I was going to have to tell her that her father was dead.

"Bella, come on. You have to put some clothes on. Your skin is like ice," I responded, trying to pull her into her bedroom but she resisted.

"No, they're waking Charlie up," she said frantically, her words throbbing in my chest. I felt the sting in my eyes again and a pounding in my head as I searched for the words that would help her understand.

"He's not going to wake up Bella," I choked out, holding her face in my hands and staring into her dark eyes. "Charlie's gone."

"Gone, like dead gone?" she whispered, pulling away from me and moving into the bedroom, her eyes finally settling on the scene before us.

Carlisle was comforting my sister. Alice was still sobbing, grieving for Bella stripped of her father, and for Charlie stripped of his chance at redemption. She grieved for our own parents all over again, for her lost childhood, stripped of her innocence in knowing this pain so young, and heartsick that Bella had to know this pain as well.

Bella took it all in, her gaze appraising what was happening, what had already transpired, and I saw her silently collapse, vomit expelling from her lips as she crouched on the floor, her body frail and weak as she accepted the reality, her brain forming the connection.

I lifted her sobbing frame quickly from the floor and carried her to her room. I placed her gently on her bed and she didn't move, just cried aloud, her body frozen in a state of anguish. Her eyes were clenched shut, her face twisted as she fought to breathe, her chest heaving in panicked gasps. I quickly got some clothes from her dresser drawer, pulling underwear up her freezing legs and covering them in sweats. I pulled the towel and jacket away, lifting her torso so I could pull the old flannel shirt, the one she always wore to bed, over her head and covering her exposed skin, pulling her limp arms through the oversized top.

I curled around her on the bed, wrapping her body in mine, and just held her, allowing her sorrow to become my sorrow, allowing her to feel the loss, to mourn the loss of not only her father but of the life she was slowly regaining with him.

She clutched at my t-shirt, the cloth between her fingers. Her breathing calmed and her sobs eased as she looked onto my face, her chocolate eyes swimming with fear and reluctance. "Charlie's dead, Edward," she mumbled, agony still in her gentle voice. "He's gone."

"Shhhh, I know Bella." I ran my fingers through her hair as the admittance brought on a wave of fresh despair, her eyes filling with cascading tears as she shook her head, her lips emitting a low moan, and I cried along with her, unable to find anything that I could provide as comfort. I didn't know what to say to her or what else to do, so I kept her constantly wrapped and with my touch upon her as she succumbed to the depths of despondency.

Alice ventured into Bella's room a few moments later and pulled the comforter over our entwined legs. She sat beside Bella on the bed and ran her fingers through Bella's hair as tears slipped between her swollen lids, her black hair dampened from the rain still storming outside.

Two police officers stood outside Bella's door and wanted to ask her questions but I told them to get the fuck out, that she would answer questions when she was damn ready and able. They were pretty compliant, probably upset themselves to see their colleague spread out and lifeless. I think Carlisle must have appeased them in some way because they didn't bother us again for a while. The coroner came to examine Charlie and then they took him away, four men hauling his large body down the stairs, zipped up in a black bag; and then Charlie was gone.

Bella still clenched her eyes shut, refusing to open them, refusing to break her grasp on my t-shirt. She wasn't asleep because she'd mutter something once in a while: she'd ask me what was going on, what they were doing, where they were taking him, and I answered the best I could. She'd comment on the rain outside, she talked about how she had just made his bed and that they had gone and tore it to shreds, all the while her face pressed into my shirt with her eyes closed, and I was scared for her, worried about what this was going to do to her already fragile health. I knew how easy it would be for her to slip back into that fasting mentality. When my parents had died I too wouldn't eat, especially during my destructive phrase. I let myself waste away, sustaining myself on drugs and alcohol, and it wasn't until Carlisle made us go to those cooking classes that I found something to live for, something nurturing to feed my soul.

Carlisle appeared in the doorway. "Edward? They need to ask Bella some standard questions. They really can't wait any longer."

I nodded and brought my lips to Bella's head, and she stirred beneath my arms. "Bella? Bella, they need to ask you some questions. About Charlie." I murmured into her cheek. She moved her face away from my shirt, her eyes struggling to open as she strained through the swollen lids. Her eyes met mine, the sorrow pulling at her every expression, and she nodded, pulling the comforter around her as she moved to a seated position.

Carlisle left briefly and returned with two police officers, portraits of dejection as they inquired of the death of their superior, their chief. What time did you get home? Where were you? Were you the last person to see Charlie last night? Did he seem okay? Bella answered them all with simple and to the point statements, but she faltered at the next question.

"Did you check on him when you got home?" one of the police officers had asked.

"I…I did…He was asleep. How long has he been…um, when…when did it happen?" She asked, her eyes welling with tears again.

"We can't determine the exact time of death until there's been an official examination, but the coroner estimated time of death sometime between two and four this morning. You said you arrived home shortly after five, was there any indication that Charlie was alive at that time?" the cop asked her, writing on a small notepad.

"I don't know. I came home…and the TV was on but he was asleep. I just thought he was asleep. I didn't want to wake him up, so I went to bed." Bella started shaking again as the realization of what had happened this morning slowly began to make sense and I wanted to stop it from happening, pull her back to where we could push it all away and curl up under her comforter like we had so many times before.

"He was…oh my God, Edward," Bella gripped my arm with both hands. "This morning…when I got home, he was…and I just left him there." Again, her eyes spilled over, silent tears across her face. Alice wrapped her arm around Bella's shoulders as the police officers continued their questioning. They wanted to know all the medications he was taking and whether or not he had been taking them regularly, and they roughly deemed the cause of death to be natural causes, probably another heart attack. They said that the body was being taken to the hospital morgue to be examined and then they would release it to the funeral home. Bella just sat there, silent tears rolling down her cheeks and dripping from her chin onto the comforter pulled across her lap. Her hands still clutched at my arm, frozen, and I could see her going numb all over, shut down as she listened to them speak. I could see the vacancy in her eyes and felt a stillness in her body and I feared this more than hysterics. At least with hysterics I knew what she was thinking. As she sat there, still and void, I had no fucking clue what poisonous thoughts could be running marathons in her brain.

"Is there somewhere you can stay? You shouldn't be alone tonight," one of the officers said.

Before Bella could answer I spoke for her, "She'll stay with us. She's not alone."

The officers quickly left after that, telling Bella that someone would be contacting her shortly with more information. One of them placed a business card on her dresser before asking for information concerning the service, saying that the police department would want to be involved, going on and on about what an asset Charlie was to the community, how he was revered and a hero and would be missed. Bella just nodded, her eyes closing as she listened to his prattle. I knew he had good intentions, but shit, couldn't he see what this was doing to her? I was about to lose it and tell him to shut the fuck up when they turned and left the room, the silence heavy in their wake.

Carlisle came to sit at the foot of the bed. "Bella, you should come stay with us. You can have the guest bedroom downstairs until we figure things out."

Bella looked up sharply. "What's there to figure out?" she asked.

"There will be business to attend to. A service and a burial, and you'll have to talk to your father's lawyer concerning his will and the legalities of it all, and there's this house and, well, you're only eighteen Bella, you shouldn't have to deal with this on your own." Carlisle was trying to be as gentle as possible; the impending responsibilities were monumental and he knew that Bella was going to need help.

And then it hit me, what Carlisle really meant. Charlie was the whole reason Bella was in Forks and at that moment thousands of questions and scenarios pummeled my brain, each of them meandering and depending on other information, information I didn't have at this time. Would she go to live with her mom? Would her mom make her leave Forks? Would she stay with us, at Carlisle's? Would she stay at Charlie's? I couldn't even begin to fathom how this was going to change things, but there it was, the shift had already begun to occur, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

I felt heat rising within me and panic began to pound in my chest and I looked at Bella, awaiting her response.

"Thank you, Carlisle. Really, that's very generous, but I just want to stay here for a while, if that's okay?" she mumbled. Carlisle sighed and I could tell he didn't like this response, but he nodded.

"Okay, but Esme will want to come by later, I'm sure, and we can bring you anything that you need. And don't hesitate to come over or call when you need to, whenever you feel like it," Carlisle pressed. Bella nodded and smiled slightly, exhaustion weary upon her eyelids.

Alice got up from her seat. "We'll be back too Bella, me and Jasper, soon as he gets home from work." She leaned over and kissed Bella on the temple before following Carlisle out of the room.

Bella looked at me now and I didn't know what she was expecting, but there was no way in hell I was leaving this house. "I'm not going anywhere," I said, laying back on her bed and pushing my legs under the covers. I wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her down to lay with me.

"I know," she responded, turning her face into my chest. She was quiet for a while, laying with her head on my chest as my fingers ran up and down her back, the light thudding of the rain still sloshing against the roof. I thought maybe she had fallen asleep, but then she spoke.

"How could he do this to me Edward?" Her fingers twisted into my t-shirt again, the material pulling against my chest. "How could he leave me like this?"

I couldn't answer at first, a wicked case of déjà vu fucking with my mind; that unnatural, creepy as shit feeling like I'd been here before caused goosebumps to spread across my arms. I had lived this moment before, I had wondered the same thing, voiced the same fucking words in a different room, curled on a different bed, a different set of arms intent on comfort. But it was the same nonetheless.

As the eerie wave engulfed and then passed, I was able to respond.

"Charlie's heart just couldn't carry the burden anymore, Bella. Charlie didn't want to leave, his body just gave up," I said gently.

"But he was fine! He cooked all that food just two nights ago. He made me fucking pancakes yesterday, Edward. He made me pancakes!" She was grasping at my shirt now, angry cries spilling from her lips.

"I didn't even get to tell him that I remembered him. I remembered it all and I didn't even get to tell him. It's just fucking bullshit! Goddamn, fucking bullshit." She sobbed against my chest, the tears seeping through my shirt and dampening my skin underneath. The rest of the afternoon passed this way, Bella asking questions and not really looking for answers. I just held her and listened, offering little bits of reassurance where I could: if she wanted to cry I let her cry, if she wanted to yell I let her yell, and when she wanted to sit in silence I let her do that too. I accepted it all because I knew that nothing I could offer right now was going to make any sense, none of it would help.

Esme and Carlisle arrived later that evening bringing a vegetable casserole. Bella pushed the food around on her plate, slowly taking small bites and hardly eating anything at all. Emmett and Rose then Alice and Jasper filled the downstairs living room, watching television and playing cards. Bella didn't leave her bedroom, but she wasn't alone; instead of Bella going to stay with my family, my family came to stay with her.

They left late into the night except for Alice and Jasper, who slept downstairs on the couch. Bella didn't sleep much that night, just lay in her bed while I played with her hair. She was quiet, no longer crying but not talking either, swimming in a pool of thought. The rain splattered against the shingles outside her window and I think I fell asleep before she did, dozing off for a few hours in the warm, comfortable bed.

That morning I awoke to find Bella sitting in the wooden rocking chair by her bedroom window, her legs pulled into her chest, the long flannel shirt sleeves dangling from the fingers wrapped around her knees. She slightly rocked in the chair, watching the rain trail paths on the glass.

"Hey," I said, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from my eyes. I had slept in my clothes, the jeans uncomfortably restricting and twisted around my legs. Bella looked at me startled, as if being called from a trance, but she smiled, her swollen eyes worn, the dark circles overwhelming her tired face.

I left the bed and walked over to her, placing a kiss on her forehead before going to use the restroom. I washed my face, running wet fingers through my hair, and rinsed my mouth with water from the tap as I tried to make myself presentable.

Bella was still in the rocking chair when I returned, her head leaning against her knees. I pulled her hair away from her face, using my fingers to gently comb through the tangles and weaving the strands together down her back. Her eyes closed as I fastened the end of the braid with a hair tie I had pocketed from the bathroom. She didn't say anything but I saw the tears beading in the corners of her eyes. I kissed her wet lids, salt upon my lips as she wrapped her arms around my waist, her cheek resting against my stomach, a mumbled thank you whispered from her lips.

I inhaled the wafting aroma of eggs drifting upstairs. Bella looked at me inquisitively as I kissed her lips, leaving her in the rocking chair to see who had assumed the cooking duties today. I walked down the stairs to find Alice still asleep on the couch, a light snore coming from her lips. To my utter shock, I found Jasper at the stove, the broken shells messy in the carton on the counter and a spatula in his hand as he pushed the scrambled eggs around in the pan. Toast popped from the toaster startling me as Jasper turned around to remove the bread, freezing in his position as he saw me staring at him dumbfounded from the doorway, a showdown of sorts, as he appraised the surprise upon my face.

I wasn't pissed or anything, at least I didn't think I was. I'll admit it, I'm a bit of a control freak when it comes to cooking, but it was just strange to see Jasper, of all people, cooking breakfast in my girlfriend's dead father's kitchen.

"I was hungry," he said warily. "I thought you guys might be too."

"Thanks," I responded after a pause. "I didn't know you could cook."

"I can't. This is the extent of it, eggs and toast. I can make quesadillas and nachos too, but those aren't really breakfast foods," Jasper said, shrugging his shoulders and moving back to the pan.

I pulled the plates from the cabinet as Jasper removed the pan from the heat. He slid some of the eggs onto three of the plates and I pulled the toast from the toaster, smearing a small amount of margarine onto the warm, crisp bread. I carried two plates up to Bella's room and handed one to her as she still sat in the rocking chair, and sat myself on the edge of her bed.

"Jasper made you breakfast," I said before taking a bite of the eggs. Not bad, as scrambled eggs go. Then again, I didn't know how you could possibly fuck up scrambled eggs.

Bella quirked an eyebrow at me, pondering this development just as I had. She glanced at her plate and sighed before picking up the fork to take a small bite. She nibbled a little on the toast, mainly just tearing the bread to pieces, camouflaging the food to make it look used. I knew what she was doing but I didn't say anything. I also knew bitching from me was the last thing Bella needed to hear right now.

Charlie's lawyer came to the house that morning to discuss the will. Charlie had been a cop in Forks for, like, twenty years or something, and he had invested in his future wisely. I sat with Bella in the living room, the flannel still around her shoulders as she listened to the fat, balding man discuss Charlie's assets. In addition to his pension, Charlie had also taken out a two hundred and fifty thousand dollar life insurance policy when he joined the force. He made his last mortgage payment five years ago, had zero debt, and three hefty bank accounts, one of which was in Bella's name, not to mention numerous other investments: 401K, IRA, mutual funds, stocks, a proud investment portfolio hidden behind a lonely and simple man whose only material possessions included various fishing equipment. I mean, shit, he didn't even have a nice car.

When it was all said and done, Charlie had been sitting on just over half a million dollars, and had specifically stated on each account that there was only one beneficiary: Isabella Marie Swan. Charlie's will was simple: everything goes to Bella, and bury me at that cemetery that runs along the river.

Half a million dollars. Bella just sat there, her fingers folded in her lap, her brown eyes flat. She thanked the lawyer for his assistance and went back to her room. Esme and Alice volunteered to organize the service, preparing to carry out the wishes as described in Charlie's will. They involved the police department, his numerous colleagues and life long acquaintances eager to help out, and planned the memorial service and burial for Friday, New Years Eve.

Bella called her mother to tell her the news and to give her information about the service. I sat there holding her hand while she struggled through the conversation, then hung up the phone and curled into a ball.

"She bought a plane ticket for Thursday. She's going to stay here with me. She's fucking coming to Forks," she had said, her arms clutching around her stomach.

I didn't know how I felt about this development, my stomach just as twisted as Bella's. I didn't know how Bella's mom would influence her behavior, if she would act differently around her. I knew that her mom being here meant I probably wouldn't be able to stay with her, she wouldn't really need me, and I didn't know if I could handle that. I just felt fucking helpless, a bunch of factors tugging on me that were beyond my control, and I was pissed off and scared and feeling like shit because of it.

The rain had passed, finally, but the cold remained, coating the pavement in shining ice, the rainwater frozen over and gleaming like glass. That night we started taking down the Christmas tree. It had been up for a month now and was dangerously becoming a fire hazard. Alice, Jasper and I pulled the bulbs from the dead branches, the brittle needles snapping and gathering around our feet. I pulled the angel from the top of the tree, wrapping it in a plastic bag and placing it in a large tote Alice had bought this afternoon. She had been spending her time here trying to help as best she could: washing Charlie's used dishes in the sink, organizing and piling all of Charlie's things into his room, stacking fishing equipment and sports magazines, pulling his clothing from the dryer and closets, removing any trace of him from downstairs, and had now moved on to the upstairs bathroom. She didn't want Bella to have to sort through the constant reminders of Charlie: his wallet tossed on the kitchen counter, grocery lists scribbled onto scraps of paper, half finished fishing lures on the coffee table. She figured if it was all centralized in one room, Bella could go through it at her own pace when she was ready.

Jasper and I were putting the living room back together when we heard Bella yelling from upstairs. I couldn't understand what she was shouting, so I ran up the stairs. Alice was standing in the hallway, wiping the tears from her eyes.

"I'm so sorry, I just thought it would be easier, I thought it would help." Alice was blubbering as I stepped into the bathroom to find Bella crouched on the floor clutching Charlie's aftershave and soap, her arms overflowing with toiletries as tears streamed down her face.

I pulled her to stand, loosening the items from her fingers, his toothbrush and razor falling to the floor with a clatter as she dissolved into my arms, clutching at her hair and gasping for air, her face twisted as the guilt infested grief washed over her once again.

"It's okay, Bella. It's okay," I whispered, carrying her back to her room.

This is how the next few days passed, Bella vacillating back and forth from emotionless stone to collapsed hysterics. No apologies were made, Alice completely accepting of the fact that Bella wasn't in a rational state of mind right now. Bella barely spoke, she wouldn't eat, she hardly slept, and I was beginning to lose my mind, her face sallow and stressed as she shifted back and forth from the bed to the rocking chair, never removing the flannel, her hair pulled back in a fresh braid every day. We practically had to force her to take a shower and she had spent forty minutes just standing under the warm stream; her sobs could be heard through the door and twice I went in to check if she was okay. If only she would tell me what she was thinking, what was spilling through her mind, maybe I could help. Lord knows I'd had my share of experience, but she kept it all to herself, selfish with her thoughts and, fuck, how I longed to take them from her.

The downstairs had been invested with cards and flowers, baskets of food, casseroles and pies, just shit fucking everywhere. Billy Black and the Clearwaters had been over twice and some people from the station stopped by to see if Bella needed anything. She was polite, but kindly dismissed them, venturing back up to her room and immersing herself in music or sitting in the rocking chair staring out the window. My family had been here every night, all of them. Emmett and Rose had changed their plans and weren't heading back to Pullman until after the service. Esme was busy making arrangements for Saturday, making programs and organizing speeches. She was trying to keep it simple but it seemed the entire town wanted to be a part of this thing. Needless to say, Charlie's house, Bella's house now, was pretty packed with people most of the time, but Bella stayed in her room, isolation her consolation, hidden from the world spinning around her.

Bella stayed in her room - that is, until her mother arrived.

…

**BPOV**

I was pretty sure I was drowning. I couldn't breathe, my breath suffocating in my chest, the tight space already consumed by my throbbing heart. I couldn't speak, everything coming out all garbled and mumbled, I didn't even know if I was making sense half the time. My head pounded with a crippling ache behind my eyes every time I opened them, and I preferred the darkness when I clenched my lids shut. And I was wet, tears streaming down my face, snot running from my nose, the cotton my face had been embedded in for the last twenty four hours sopping and cool, just another piece of evidence to suggest that I was submerged. Yes, I was drowning, and I had no desire to break the surface, no desire to pull myself to safety.

I couldn't believe this was happening, couldn't understand what had gone wrong, what I had done wrong. I spent my silences trying to figure this out, what I could have done better, how I could have done more. I should have come home earlier, should have helped more with Christmas Eve dinner, should have made him exercise. There had to have been something that I could have done to prevent this. But I had failed. I took the one task that karma had offered me and I had fucking failed.

The worst part of it all was that I never got the chance to forgive him. I never learned the truth, I never got the chance to understand my father, to know him, and now it was too late. I'd never be able to say sorry, I'd never get my dramatic declaration of acceptance or begging for forgiveness or even the yelling and screaming of accusations. I'd never see him again. They carried his body out the door in a big black bag and I couldn't even watch him go.

My only comfort was that familiar scent, Edward's scent. I forced myself to stay here, enveloped in that sweet summer sun, a flagrant contrast to the elements tormenting the world outside my window.

I knew they were there. I could hear them talking around me, the television always on downstairs, but I couldn't acknowledge them yet, afraid the coursing pain would again smother me, so I lay still with his arms wrapped around me and his fingers pulling through my hair. I couldn't stop the thoughts, though, the "what if's" and the "if only's", so I stopped thinking altogether. _"Blackness, blackness dragging me down…"_

I knew no hunger nor exhaustion and eventually I went numb, all thought and emotion compartmentalized. I answered their questions, yes's and no's, telling myself it wasn't real. When a question popped into my head, I asked it, and he was there to listen with loving caresses and reassuring words, he did everything he could to make this easier. I remembered that he too had suffered this loss, he knew my anguish, so I let myself accept his comfort.

So many faces came and I forced myself through the interactions. A lawyer came to spew a bunch of senseless shit but all I remembered was that Charlie was loaded and he left it all to me. It was like some sick joke, this money. It was all I had ever craved, to be cared for by Charlie, and now, in death, he would support me for as long as I maintained his investments. I almost wanted to puke as this lawyer discussed Charlie's money, acting like I should be excited and rejoicing for the increase in funds, but I just couldn't wait for him to get the fuck out of the house.

I called my mom, disbelief in her faded voice. She wanted lots of details but I couldn't give them to her. I didn't want her to be a part of this life, my life with Charlie, and I almost asked her to stay away. But I didn't because I knew she wouldn't. She was flying in on Thursday. She was going to meet Edward, see Charlie's house, and the thought of her here, sitting on his couch and touching his stuff made me sick to my stomach.

And then there was the incident with Alice in the bathroom. She was cleaning out Charlie's toiletries, his toothbrush and razor, his aftershave and soap in her hands. I don't know what came over me but I was enraged, almost jealous that she knew this smell now, a smell I couldn't let go of, a smell I didn't want to share. I snapped at her and tears welled in her eyes and I immediately felt horrible for making her cry, for yelling at her after everything that she had been doing. I felt horrible knowing I would never again know this smell, the aftershave on my father's smooth and freshly fragrant face, and I crumbled, a heaping mess on the floor as I clutched those small parts of my father to my chest, a part of him I had spent so many years trying to find and simultaneously trying to forget. Just like his flannel wrapped around me, these smells made me feel close to him, and I was slowly realizing that I'd never be close to him again.

Each day melded into the next. Esme would ask me questions about the memorial service to get my approval and I would go back to lying in bed or rocking in that chair, that fucking rocking chair where Charlie sat to play the guitar. He wouldn't have even fit in that chair now but I found myself making a list of all the shit we could have done. I wished I could remember the last time he had played the guitar for me. It never failed, he had this uncanny ability to sit down with his guitar at the most inopportune moment and my mom would always roll her eyes, shout at us for dinner, or to get in the car or whatever other task we were avoiding with the lyrical loitering. Sometimes she'd just leave, his ever present indifference grating on her nerves, and I understood now why she'd been so frustrated, but still this is the memory I had, not the fucking dinner we had eaten cold or the grocery store trip we were late for, but my father in this chair with his guitar. _"Constant stranger, you're a brute, you're an angel, you can crawl, you can fly too…_

I'm not sure how many days passed. All I knew was that my mom was arriving on Thursday and then the service would be on Friday. Renee was on an early morning flight from Jacksonville, at least a six hour trip. I wasn't even sure when her flight was getting in to Seattle, but when Edward came into the room to tell me Renee was on her way from the airport, I kind of panicked. I quickly got out of bed, threw on my jeans and ran to the bathroom to pull a brush through my hair. It was all crimpy from being tied back in a braid, adding volume, and combined with the static electricity from lying in bed all day, it poofed out in ridiculous waves. I wrapped it back into a bun and sighed at the dark circles under my eyes. Shit, she was going to have a fucking field day with the state of my appearance.

The Cullens were in my living room, all of them except Jasper and Carlisle, whom I assumed were working. Rose and Emmett were on the couch, Rosalie reading a magazine, her belly still hidden beneath an oversized sweater over leggings. Emmett was snacking on some chips, a football game on the television, the Cullen crest prominently displayed as my Christmas gift stretched across his chest. He quickly moved to turn off the television as I entered the room. I sighed, appreciating the gesture but at the same time irritated for the eggshells, like I was going to turn into a blubbering mess because of something on TV, like they needed to act differently around me because I might break. This irritation quickly became self-directed, though, as I accepted how realistic that possibility was.

Alice sat in one of the chairs, jeans and a t-shirt around her small frame and her hair curled around her ears, a thick black headband pulled around her hairline. Next to the headband, her hair looked brownish and faded, the copper roots shining through, like she had been neglecting the color. I was shocked a bit at her casual appearance but that was quickly trumped by my shock at how spotless the living room was. The tree had been taken down and a small stab ached in my chest. I had wanted to clean up some of Charlie's stuff downstairs, like I owed it to him to hide the little bit of him that I knew from Renee. Instead, I found that it had already been done for me. Alice had moved all his belongings to his room for me and my eyes filled with tears when I thought of how I had yelled at her earlier in the week. Everything had been taken care of for me, the house was cleaned and the service planned as I had sat in my room, and from beyond the gaping hole that now invaded my soul, a tiny sliver of admiration and gratitude began to warm my chest.

Esme was at the kitchen table, a cell phone to her ear as she scribbled on a notepad. I overheard her conversation, the memorial service being discussed. Apparently, Edward had okayed a caterer and Esme was ironing out the details for tomorrow's ordeal. I closed my eyes to tune her out as I retreated to the living room, taking a seat in the chair next to Alice as Edward made me a veggie sandwich. I didn't have the heart to tell him I couldn't eat it. I tried, but my stomach twisted and cringed as the bread and veggies invaded the vacant space, and I didn't want to puke so I just didn't eat it. I pulled it apart and took small bites of the bread and tomato but the matter felt foreign to my body, like it didn't belong there, and I didn't want it. I didn't want to try anymore. I was having a hard enough time just trying to breathe, I didn't need anything else on my plate, so to speak.

My mother arrived in a cab, a small duffel bag over her shoulder, and I sighed in relief; she wasn't planning on staying long. Her light brown hair was short now, a very angular and stylish cut streaked with golden highlights. Her small frame was decked out in new threads, a pair of jeans with rhinestones embedded on the pockets, a black v-neck sweater and scarf, and black pointy boots with a black tailored jacket that looked like leather. Looking at her from the front window she looked like she could have been in her early twenties and I knew she had probably revamped her look just for this occasion. I wanted to punch her in the face. Here I was, a fucking disaster of a person, mourning the loss of a father I'd never really known, and she had been playing fantasy makeover. Two words kept running through my brain and I couldn't silence them, no matter how hard I tried to think of anything else; with every step her new black boots took towards the house, all I could hear was my mantra, _fucking bitch, fucking bitch, fucking bitch_.

Edward sat protectively on the arm of my chair and hovered over me as I curled my legs into my chest. He placed his hand on my back and I felt ease in his touch so I gave him a small smile. I hadn't even stopped to think about how this must be affecting him, the toll this must be taking on his emotions. He was about to meet his girlfriend's mother for the first time, and under such dire circumstances at that. Compound this with the fact that my mother is totally inept and you've got yourself one toxic situation. Yet Edward could not be wavered. He stayed, constantly my protector, constantly my supporter, and I was reminded once again how completely unworthy I was of all his affection. _"__Inside your own self-pity there you swim…"_

Renee stood on the front porch for a minute, probably deciding on whether she should knock or just walk on in. Eventually, she decided that announcing her arrival wouldn't be necessary and walked through the door, invading the foyer. I could see her from my chair as she eyed Edward suspiciously and moved towards me.

"Bella, baby! Honey, I'm so sorry," she gushed, the musky, organic smell of smoke and patchouli and whiskey persisting as she pulled me from the chair and into her arms. It was a smell I knew well, oddly familiar and trite, confounding my multitude of conflicting emotions. I found her arms comforting yet anxious, the previous overshadowed by the latter as her eyes still fixated on Edward, who had let me go with great reluctance.

I mumbled a greeting into her leather jacket, the cool material damp against my cheek. She pulled away quickly and awkwardly looked around at the many guests filling the living room. I assumed she was expecting an introduction and I was about to speak when Esme stepped forward to introduce herself. I sat back down on the chair Edward was now occupying, squeezing onto the seat with him. He made room to allow my body to fit in the space and placed his arm behind me, not quite touching, but resting his hand on the arm of the chair.

"Hello, I'm Esme Cullen. We're friends of Charlie's. You must be Bella's mother, Renee?" Esme held out her hand, her ever accepting warmth extending from her fingers, and Renee took her hand, nodding her head.

"Yes. I'm Renee, Charlie's ex-wife," my mom said sullenly. I had assumed my mother was going to turn this into her personal pity party, but I hadn't ever heard her refer to being anyone's anything and now she was an ex-wife, a widow. Renee had made it very clear in the past that my father didn't mean anything to her anymore but I guess it made sense that she would mourn as well. However, I found myself not feeling sympathy for my mom in this moment, but for Esme and Carlisle, people who truly loved Charlie and had lost a friend. My mom hadn't really lost anything here except a small piece of a past she longed to forget.

"This is my son Emmett and his girlfriend Rosalie. My niece Alice and this is my nephew Edward," Esme continued, ignoring my mother's declaration of affiliation and motioning to each of them as she said their names. I hadn't told my mom about Edward but I could tell she knew something was different about him, his proximity alone enough to cause suspicion.

"Pleasure to meet you all," Renee said as she dropped her duffle bag by the chair. "I'm so thankful you were here to take care of Bella until I got here," my mother said, like I was a fucking child needing tending to. I hated it when she talked about me like I wasn't in the room.

"Of course," Esme replied politely. "Well, I think we'll be heading out. I'm sure you'll want to catch up with Bella." I turned frantically to look at Edward who leaned in to kiss my forehead while my mother's eyes burned into the side of my face.

"You'll come back, right? Tonight?" I asked Edward quietly and he nodded, his arm around me pulling me into a tight embrace this time. I nodded back as he stood up and I felt very small and alone in the large chair swimming around me. Emmett patted me on the back as Alice gave me a tight hug, and Esme kissed my cheek before they filed out the door. Edward held the door for them, giving me a small smile as he too disappeared down the walkway.

Being alone with my mother felt so strange and I didn't really know why. It had been just the two of us for seven years, a conjoined solitude that I had accepted. Now, in the absence of my companions, I felt the tugging ache of loneliness invade as my mother sat on the couch across from me, her inquisitive eyes staring right through me while I waited for her interrogation.

"Was that your boyfriend?" she immediately asked, and I nodded. "And those kids are your friends?" Again, a nod of my head but she persisted.

"That was his aunt? Where are his parents?" she asked, pulling at the afghan on the back of the couch, and I couldn't stand to see her fingers on that crocheted blanket.

"They're dead. Why did you leave my dad?" I thought I'd ask a few questions of my own that had been tormenting me for, oh, I don't know, eight fucking years. She had to answer them now, now that he was gone. Even if she lied to my face, there'd be no one to dispute her and at this point the lie would be better than nothing.

She froze, pulling her fingers from the blanket and folding them in her lap. "Bella, you've obviously been through the ringer the last couple of days. You look awful. Maybe this isn't the best time to talk about it." Renee stared at her hands, cowardly and shaken, probably because she knew I wasn't going to let it go this time, not until she at least gave me an answer.

"I'm fine. I think we should talk about it now," I retorted, my voice curt and short.

Renee sighed. "People change, Bella, and we just didn't want the same things. It happens all the time in marriages," she shrugged her shoulders, as if to make it final, like that half-assed answer was enough.

"That's bullshit. I don't know many marriages that end in the wife sneaking off with a child to fucking Phoenix in the middle of the night followed by seven years of estrangement," I spat. She was hiding something, she had to be. That couldn't be the only fucking reason. It was like sitting in traffic for an hour only to find out there was absolutely no fucking reason for it, that it was _just because_. I swear to God, if this was all _just because_ I was going to go ballistic on this woman.

"Bella, that was a choice I had to make for me, for us. It was just better for everyone that way," my mother snapped. "Look, I'm sorry your father passed away. I'm sorry you didn't have a relationship with him, but you wouldn't have had one regardless. He was father and husband to his work alone. He didn't love anything more than he loved that job because they worshiped him there, worshiped him in a way I never could."

"You're so wrong, mom. He loved us. Look at this place, he hadn't even changed the furniture, and he was loaded too. He could have bought a whole new fucking house if he wanted to, but he didn't. He wanted this house, he wanted us!" Again, the tears trailed across my cheeks, the truth behind my statement only now beginning to transude into understanding. He _had_ wanted us, I just didn't know how to prove it. I didn't want to prove it to her, I didn't give a shit about what she thought, I wanted to prove it to myself. I _had_ to prove it to myself.

"What do you mean, he was loaded? How do you know this?" Shit. I hadn't meant to let that slip, but it seemed very poignant to the point I was trying to make. I shrugged it off, my diversionary tactics mirroring my mothers.

"Charlie knew how to handle his funds. He had a savings account for me," I said casually.

"What? How much?" My stomach sickened at the glimmer in her eyes, but I understood that gleam. Growing up, we didn't have much cash. I mean, we had enough, enough for Renee to splurge on her weed and whiskey. However, she had been a single parent and had to work a lot, sometimes taking on extra sessions during the summer to make ends meet. She had raised a kid on her own, even if she had done a shitty job at it. I could see how she thought she deserved to be compensated, I guess.

"Enough, he left me enough. Plus the house," I mumbled. She was going to find out soon enough, it might as well come from me. Again, my stomach twisted and I wrapped my arms around my torso.

"Bella, don't you see? This is the best thing Charlie could have done for you. We can sell the house…" my mom continued to rattle.

"No, mom, you don't understand…" I tried to interject.

"And you'll have plenty of money to pay for college, plus you could get your own apartment or you could live on campus. You could always live with us, University of Florida is only about an hour from Jacksonville…" The plans tumbled from her lips, her speech animated, her hands flailing all over the place.

"Mom…" I tried to interrupt her but she just talked right over me.

"Or, you could enroll at the community college where I'm teaching. That would be so much fun, a couple of college girls!" She clapped her hands, delighted at the idea.

"Mom!" I shouted. She finally shut up, her face startled as her eyebrows creased.

"Mom, I'm not selling the house. I'm going to stay here, in Forks," I said firmly. There was no way in hell I was going to sell this house, especially to move to Florida. I wasn't going to relocate for the remainder of my senior year of high school, leave Edward and abandon our plans for New York. Just the thought of it was enough to make me cringe, a panic rising in my chest.

"What? Why would you want to stay in Forks? Because of some boy?" Renee asked, confusion darkening her features.

"It doesn't really matter why, mom. I'm staying in Forks," I sighed. I didn't want to argue or explain, and I was tired; tired of not knowing the truth, tired of her bullshit, just fucking tired of trying.

"You can't stay here by yourself. You're just a kid, you're still in high school, for Christ's sake," my mother snorted, a smirk upon her stupid face, like I haven't been by myself since she dragged me out of this house when I was ten years old.

Anger flared in my chest and I felt a fire in my belly as I narrowed my eyes at her shitty smirk. How could she diminish all the shit I've put up with from her, all the times I cared not only for myself, but for her as well? How many times had I been left to fend for myself while she was out with some new boyfriend or fucking puking her guts out in an alcohol induced stupor?

"Don't for one minute think that I can't take care of myself. I've been taking care of myself for as long as I can remember, _mother_. I've put up with your bullshit for far too long and I'm done. This is my house. I am an adult and legally I _can_ stay here by myself," I said bitterly.

My mother was quiet and still, embarrassment clouding her features like a scolded puppy, her tail neatly tucked between her legs. This used to make me feel bad, guilty because I hurt her, and she was always so quick to remind me how much she had sacrificed for me. But today it just made me pissed. This was her game, the passive, poor me role that she assumed. And I didn't want to play anymore.

"Well, I guess you've made up your mind. I just don't want to see you get trapped in Forks, like I did, snipped from the vine. You're young Bella, you're smart. You could do a lot of things with your life. I don't want to see you strapped to a life you despise. I just hope this boy is worth it." The phrase rang in my ears, familiarity in the words, and I remembered a conversation taking place in this very living room, Charlie voicing the same concern.

"Snipped from the vine? What the hell does that even mean?" I asked her, my hands waving through the air.

"Like a rosebud, Bella, picked too soon. You never get to see it open fully or grow to its potential, enjoy it when it's most beautiful. It stays a closed up bud always until it wrinkles and withers and dries up into a crumbling mess." Renee dapped at her eyes, the tears shining from across the space.

I sat quietly, the analogy beginning to make sense in my brain, and I realized that no one, not one of us would ever reach our full "potential". I thought of my parents, my mom stuck in a small town she had grown to hate, living the life she claimed she never wanted; my father, trying to get ahead in his career, torn between appeasing his love and supporting his family. Even Carlisle, choosing to turn his back on his brother, only to carry the burden of his actions; Esme, giving up her career to care for two more children, her attempt to appease Carlisle's guilt.

I thought of Emmett and Rosalie, so young, with a baby on the way. Whatever they wanted to do with their lives, it was going to be more difficult because, now, they were going to be responsible for another human being. Was this baby the snipping of Rose's vine? This was what she wanted now, but would we find her someday withered and crumbling, sitting across from her own bitter daughter, explaining to her how her life had been ruined by an accidental lapse in judgment? And Emmett, every opportunity in the world just begging for his attention, how would the pruning shears of real life burden his potential?

Then there was Alice and Edward, plucked from the vine through no fault of their own, genetics and circumstance clipping their opportunities for fulfillment. Alice, emphatic and loyal, a reflection of her brother's care for her, but indulging in reckless behavior, drugs and alcohol, sneaking around with an older boy who not only supported her behavior but indulged as well, his own perceived inadequacies fueling his quest for attention. Jasper and Alice both impressed me each day with their care for one another, with their ability and persistence to adapt to their situations, but, fuck, what could they have been capable of if they hadn't had all this shit to deal with? What if Jasper's parents hadn't been dickheads and sent him to his music school? What if Alice would have been able to grow up at a normal pace, retaining some innocence without the weight the death of her parents had placed on her small shoulders? How would they have bloomed away from the sharp cuts of their realities?

And Edward, that sweet, nurturing being who had forsaken his own happiness time and time again to protect the ones he loved. Edward, a genius mind capable of shear brilliance, forced instead to become caretaker for his sister, forced to live each day with the fear of a mind-altering disease, asked now to deal with a love, a partner plagued by continuous failure and disappointment and pain. Edward could have been a gorgeous rose, he could have had the biggest splay of color, the most magnificent spread of petals; but snipped he had been, a small bud barely beginning to develop and, oh, what he could have accomplished.

Oh, what he could accomplish still.

This whole vine business was bullshit. What potential did we have to reach? Who was the dictator of said potential and who had appointed them so? Who determined that a rose in full bloom smells sweeter than a delicate bud? There is beauty in both if you know where to look.

This is what my mother chose to see, her missed opportunities, her lost potential, when she could have been noticing a husband who loved her, who desperately tried to make her happy. She could have seen a child vying for her attention, begging to be noticed. Instead of wallowing in all the shit she supposedly could have been, she should have stopped to realize what she was; she was hurtful and damaging and selfish.

And she had kept me from potentially knowing anything else.

…

Fucking Renee...

Joni Songs Referenced:

_Down to You_

_Flight Tonight_

_Rose's Blue_

_Jericho_

Leave a note, if you'd like :)


	23. Tearful at the Falling of a Star

**Darlings**,

I probably shouldn't post chapters whilst I'm emo'ing but I wanted to get this baby out to you ladies. Thank you for all your lovely comments, tears, thoughts, pains, predictions, general fuckery: it all makes my day, my dears.

Beta babe** n7of9**, my bestest gal, I watched New Moon today. I still hate the mancub. Two weeks, bb, two motherfucking weeks and I'll be able to thank you properly…with chocolate cake...

Disclaimer: I don't own it.

**CH. 23 **_**"Tearful at the Falling of a Star"**_

**EPOV**

_Dear Mr. Cullen,_

_We are please to inform you that your application to the Italian Culinary Academy has been accepted for the fall session. We have attached a list of necessary materials and a schedule, as well as the information regarding financial aide that you have requested. Please let us know if there is any other…_

I blinked at the black type blurring on the stiff parchment in my shaking hand, conflict bubbling around me as I sat on the couch in my bedroom for the first time in five days.

Acceptance. I don't know why, but I hadn't thought this whole New York thing was real, like actually going to happen real, until this very moment. Maybe I was just being a pussy, but a small part of me wished I wouldn't get accepted. Ideally, I knew that going to this school was what I wanted; I had wanted it since the day I cracked that first egg into a bowl at the community center three years ago, but it was a huge change and I didn't know how or if the anxiety would trigger that bomb, the ever present conflict hovering over me like a guillotine poised to drop. I was also was uneasy at the thought of being so far from Carlisle; he was my schizophrenia expert, he knew all the symptoms, all the warning signs, what to look for. What if I started to develop the disease and Bella didn't notice. What if I didn't notice? What if Bella ended up stuck all the way across the country alone and scared and fearing for her life, fearful because of me? I wanted to believe that the bomb had been diffused. I wanted to think that Bella and I would fly off to New York and then to Italy and everything would be sunshine and rainbows, but, fuck, I just didn't know. I had no control over my fucking DNA and if it was meant to destroy me, being on the other side of the country from the one person that could help was a fucking disaster of an idea.

But Bella had so much, I don't know, faith, I guess, in the fact that we could do this. She had been so confident about it but now, with her father gone, I didn't know how this changed things. She was having a hard time, understandably so, and now her mom was here and a there was going to be a funeral and shit. I wasn't about to bring it up. I folded up the letter and shoved it into my top drawer. I wanted to share this with her when she could fully meditate on it, when she had time to understand and think about what it meant and if she still wanted to do this.

I heard a soft knock on the door. "Edward?" Esme's quiet voice on the other side of the plank. "Are you going to want dinner?"

I really just wanted to drive back over to that house and be with Bella while she dealt with her mom, but Esme had thought it would be a good idea to give them some time alone. It fucking pissed me off, but I supposed she was right. Maybe they did need some time alone, maybe Bella needed to deal with her mom on her own; then again, maybe she was falling apart and I wasn't there to put her back together. Instead, I was here, reading this fucking letter and second guessing all the shit we'd already decided on.

"Yeah. I'll be out in a sec," I yelled back to her, my hands pulling through my hair, trying to soothe the pounding in my brain. I pulled off my shirt, throwing it in the corner to be dealt with later, and searched my drawers for a replacement. I found a long-sleeved thermal and pulled it on over my head, the cold air against my skin causing goosebumps to spread over my chest and stomach. I changed my boxers and struggled to find a pair of jeans that were somewhat clean. I dug through my closet, found a pair of old worn denim and quickly pulled the ripped pants up my legs. Shit, I had to do laundry today or else I'd be wearing these fucking ripped-up jeans to Charlie's funeral tomorrow.

I walked down the stairs to find Esme leaning against the counter, silently sobbing into a dish towel. I wrapped my arm around her and let her cry into my chest, her angelic frame shaking in my arms as she mourned her friend, someone who had been a staple in her life since her and Carlisle first arrived in Forks. Everyone expected Bella to be upset, of course, and my family had been reluctant to parade their own grief in front of her. But here, in the solitude of a fucking dish towel, we were able to relinquish to the tribulation.

A reticent guilt had been nagging at me since I had heard those words, _twelve hours, cardiac arrest_. I mean, logically, I knew it wasn't anyone's fault, but that didn't stop each of us from thinking of our own ways that we had failed Charlie and, subsequently, failed Bella. I couldn't even begin to think about how Carlisle felt. Since Charlie's death he'd been constantly at the hospital trying to atone for his self-perceived failure to his friend, wrapping himself up in saving others and trying to make things right with karma again. He was pondering all his should have's: he should have seen this coming, should have pressured Charlie to get healthy earlier, should have stopped this shit before it had a chance to turn toxic. But I knew, probably better than anyone, that once a person is set on self destruction it takes something pretty fucking powerful to sway their resolve.

Cooking had been that for me, occupying my time so I couldn't think about what a fucking mess my mind might become. It proved to me that I could be helpful and not hurtful, that I could bring people comfort instead of distress, that I could contradict the influence of the genetic material coursing through my veins. I knew that Carlisle had hoped Bella would be that for her father, that maybe she could pull him from this repetitive existence he had affixed himself to. But Charlie was too stubborn, he had spent too much time wallowing in the aromas of his past and neglected to indulge in the opportunity presented. It had been too much to place on Bella's shoulders, and now, even though it had brought her to me, I feared it may have been a mistake for him to ask her to come here. I racked my brain struggling to decide which was worse, learning your father died without the opportunity to really know him, or knowing he died despite your best attempts to keep him alive.

I left for Bella's shortly after ten that night having fulfilled my laundry duties and packing a bag of clothes to take for the memorial service. I drove quickly, barely having time to crank the heater, just anxious as all hell to get to her, to see how her day had passed, how things had gone with her mother. I hadn't spoken with her since leaving this afternoon and a general feeling of unease had rooted itself deep within my gut. I needed her in my arms, fucking lost without her smell swirling around me.

Bella was waiting by her window, as usual, and ease floated through me knowing that at least this small constant had remained unchanged. She met me at the door and ushered me inside quickly, her small frame still submerged in sweats and flannel, but her red swollen eyes told me all I needed to know. I pulled her into my arms, her body dissolving into mine as I spread my fingers out across her back, desperate to connect to every tiny bit of her I could.

Renee was on the couch, her makeshift bed for the evening, and she sat up as I walked in the door. I figured I needed to introduce myself properly, like shake her hand and shit, but I didn't know if this was the right time. She was in her fucking pajamas and I was about to follow her daughter up the stairs to her room. Shit, this was going to be fucking awkward as all hell. _Hi, I know we just met but I'm going to be sleeping in your daughter's bed tonight. _

Before I could make a decision, though, Bella was pulling me upstairs, Renee's eyes following us as we moved from her line of sight. I followed Bella up the stairs, her hand loosely tangled with mine.

I dropped my bag by the door and she pulled me onto the bed and curled into my side, her head snuggled into my neck. She ran her hands beneath my shirt, her fingers cool on the skin of my stomach, and laced her legs through mine, her feet rubbing against my calf as she tucked herself into me. She pressed her nose to my shoulder and inhaled deeply before placing a small gentle kiss in the curve of my neck. Warmth flooded around me, relief thick in the room.

"Don't ever leave me again, okay?" Bella muttered against my skin, causing me to smile as I pulled her closer, eliminating any hidden space between us.

"Done and done," I responded, kissing the top of her head.

"How was your evening?" she asked. She was tired, I could tell. She shifted her body to get closer, practically climbing on top of me now, her hands tucking into my sides.

"It was…uneventful. I did laundry," I said, my hands combing through her hair. I wanted to tell her about the acceptance letter but Bella needed to sleep, her mind needed rest. Tomorrow was going to be difficult enough and she didn't need sleep deprivation clawing at her emotions as well.

"I know, you smell like detergent," she slurred, her body sagging against me. She began to breathe deeply, the tide of her body expanding and retracting in my arms. I savored the comfort her very presence provided me, drawing from her radiating energy and allowing it to soothe my own selfish insecurities. Arranged here on Bella's bed, her body eclipsing mine, we breathed as one and I let the repetitive motion lull me into the quiet stillness of sleep.

…

I woke up alone, a white blinding brightness glaring into the room from the window. I was still wearing my jacket and I shrugged it from my shoulders as I got up from the bed to look outside. A fine white powder coated the world before me and ice had accumulated on the window, the flurries still floating from the dark sky. The snow was fresh and completely flawless, the street hidden by the icy blanket. It always amazed me how a snow-covered landscape always looked serene no matter what turmoil existed below the surface.

I could hear the faint murmur of hurried voices from downstairs and I opened the door, surmising that Bella was downstairs with her mom. I grabbed my bag and went to the bathroom. I shaved, brushed my teeth and tried to fix my hair, the fucking wavy mess having a mind of its own today. I threw my bag back into Bella's bedroom and headed to the stairs but a loud screeching stopping me in my tracks.

"I'm a fucking adult, Mom!" Bella's voice thundered through the house. Shit, Bella was fighting with her mom and I was pretty sure I knew the reason why.

"You didn't answer my question. I had no idea it was this serious. How long has this been going on? Why didn't you tell me?" Renee's voice was only slightly calmer and it struck me how similar it was to Bella's. I had heard her speak yesterday, but that was her I'm-meeting-new-people-so-I-have-to-fake nice voice, it wasn't real and candid like this was.

"Why didn't you call me? Maybe if you would have called more often I would have told you. Maybe if you weren't so wrapped up in your own fucking life you would have cared to ask," Bella spat, the words sharp and bitter, years of pent up resentment flooding from her lips now.

"Excuse me for having a life! Do you think my life should revolve around you? I have paid my dues, Bella. It's my turn to be happy. I'm allowed to be happy," Renee lashed back.

"So calling your kid you haven't seen in months wouldn't make you happy? What the fuck is wrong with you?" Bella cried, her voice cracking through the tears and shocking the shit out of me. This was getting seriously ugly and I planned on intervening, when Renee responded.

"Bella, you have no fucking clue what you're talking about. You think you're the only one hurting here? Do you honestly believe that I didn't miss you, that I didn't want to talk to you? Do you really believe a mother enjoys the thought of her child living in a state all the way across the fucking country?" Renee contested, her voice exasperated. "Bella, of course I missed you. But be fair. You didn't call me either. And you should have told me you were in a relationship, an intimate one at that. Jesus, Bella, are you even on birth control?"

"It's not really your business," Bella declared quietly.

"Of course it's my business, you're my child-" Renee started but Bella cut her off.

"It's a little too late to pull the parent card, Renee. But I'm going to tell you this, not because I have to, but because I don't want you to misunderstand anything that is going on here. I love him. There is nothing in this world that I want that doesn't include him. Do you understand? This isn't just a relationship mom, this is for the rest of my life." Bella's voice was bold, her tone resolved as she made these declarations.

"Oh Bella, I do understand. I know what it's like, this idealistic love that you're feeling. And I'm not going to diminish it. But you are so young Bella. You don't want to do anything you will regret," Renee admonished, her voice hushed.

"Like you did? Do you regret marrying Charlie? Do you regret having me?" Bella asked, a struggle to get the words out. They seemed to stick on her tongue, her affliction forging the adhesive.

Renee was quiet for a long time, almost an entire minute, and at first I thought maybe she had just nodded or shaken her head.

"Bella, I loved your father. I met him when I was sixteen. I was working at the diner, you know the one on Forks Avenue, and he used to come in every Sunday morning with his friends. He would order the same thing, a short stack with bacon and a hot chocolate with whipped cream. He used to ask me stupid questions about the menu, like he wasn't going to order the same damn thing he always did. He told me later he did that just so I'd spend a little more time at his table. He used to take me fishing on the river, or we'd just sit on the sandy bank and he'd play his guitar. We were going to travel, see the world.

We got married after high school. He joined the police academy and I started taking classes in Port Angeles, and everything changed, Bella. He was never home, he took on extra shifts, and when he was home he was tired and argumentative. And then I got pregnant."

They were both quiet, an occasional sniff from Bella disclosing her lament. I fought the urge to go comfort her, letting her get these answers that she'd been waiting so long to discover.

"Do I regret _marrying_ Charlie? I do. We were too young. We got married before we even knew who we were and we weren't good for each other. I was suffocating here. One day he left for work and I left for Phoenix." Silence again, Bella's quiet sniffling interrupting the lull.

"And me?" was all Bella asked, persistent to make Renee disclose.

"I love you. You're my child. You're a living, walking, breathing piece of me. But raising a kid is hard. I wasn't me anymore, I wasn't anything but a mother and a wife. I was a college graduate who spent my days stuck in this house playing romper room." She sighed, struggling to find the right words, I hoped, because if she planned on decimating Bella today, the day of her father's funeral, by telling her she was a regretted mistake, I was going to have to rethink the whole I'd-never-hit-a-girl thing.

"I wish I hadn't gotten pregnant so soon, but I don't regret you. I have many, many regrets Bella, but you're not one of them," Renee finished and I eased. I hadn't realized how tense I'd been, frozen at the top of the stairs.

"Edward and I are moving to New York. After graduation. And then we're going to Italy," Bella blurted, her contribution to the battle of the confessions. Her disclosure came as a shock to me; I didn't think Bella was going to tell her so soon, at least not until after graduation.

"What? I thought you said you were staying in Forks," Renee asked, her sharp voice suspicious.

"I am staying in Forks, until September, and then we're moving to New York. Edward's going to culinary school. He's going to be a chef," Bella said, pride ringing in every word and causing a deep surge of admiration and, consequently, fear to flood through me. Bella was so confident, so sure that this was going to happen, I fucking hoped I could live up to her expectations.

"And you're going to use Charlie's money to pay for all that?" Renee scoffed with bitter resentment on her tongue. I clenched my fists, forcing my feet to stay frozen, struggling against every impulse to boom down the stairs and throw the bitch from the house, literally.

"Fuck you," Bella whispered. "I don't want Charlie's fucking money. I want my father. It's all I ever wanted." I heard footsteps groaning on the hardwood floors and I quickly slipped into the bedroom thinking Bella was headed up the stairs. I heard her feet slapping against the wooden steps, then in the hall, and then they stopped. I waited an entire minute before opening the door to find Bella crouched in the doorway of her father's bedroom, her arms wrapped around her middle, a tiny ball resting on her heels as her hair fell around her face. Her body shook and she reached her hand to steady herself against the molding.

I slowly walked up behind her, letting my legs press against her back, my hands reaching to fold over hers and she leaned back into them, her balance deteriorating as she slumped to the floor. I knelt and pulled her into my arms as she wept quietly, her shaking body collapsing onto mine, her fingers clutching at the fabric of my shirt as she turned to press her face into my chest, inhaling deeply and exhaling a muffled sob.

We sat like that until Bella eventually stilled and used the flannel shirt she was wearing to wipe the moisture from her eyes and nose. She looked up at me, shaking her head and taking deep breaths.

"Were you listening?" she whispered. I nodded and she mirrored the response. She pressed her face into my chest again, breathing in long deep breaths as she struggled to control her emotions.

"Thank you, for staying with me last night, for being here right now." Her arms moved to wrap around my neck, her body shifting to press completely against me, her lip pressing into the skin just below my ear.

I placed a small kiss upon the tip of her delicate nose.

"Bella, where else would I go?"

…

White surrounded us as we stood in the freezing snow, the landscape sparkling as the crystallized powder clung to the large evergreens towering around us and into the cloudy gray sky. The cemetery was located just off the Calawah River, the icy water sloshing and roaring around us. Charlie's casket was poised above a large gaping hole in the ground, an arrangement of white lilies atop the mahogany box. With my family aligned behind us and Renee to her right, Bella stood beside me, her red coat vibrant against my black, the warmth of her breath causing the vapor to swirl around her face. She had sat unmoving throughout the short service, her arm linked with mine, her face emotionless stone. She didn't cry, she didn't speak, she didn't budge when they folded up the American flag that had adorned the casket, handing her the triangle now clutched to her chest. Bella was a statue, her facial features marble as they lowered her father into the earth.

The Forks Police Department had been commissioned to participate in the proceedings and as the lowering device began to crank, a bagpipe rendition of "Amazing Grace" rang out through the cemetery, the legato sound resonating in the encroaching forest and drowning out the thundering river.

There was a pulsing mass of people here to honor Charlie; the entire town had known him and had placed their safety in his hands, they wanted to pay their respects. They wanted to talk to Bella, hug her, stress to her how much he meant to this community, how much he would be missed. They wanted to see her fall apart and grieve, but she remained stoic and controlled, my family gathered around her keeping them at a safe distance. Renee chatted with some old friends, they all hugged her and offered condolences and she gobbled it up, no indication whatsoever of the altercation that had taken place between herself and Bella just hours earlier. One by one they made their way to their vehicles, leaving a trail of muddied slush, headed to Carlisle's house for refreshments.

Renee left first, riding with Carlisle and Esme back to the house. Alice, Jasper, Rose and Emmett had all arrived in Rose's BMW and they retreated back to the house as well, leaving Bella and I alone at Charlie's grave.

She just stood there, staring at the large mound of dirt piled beside the hole. The staff had begun to stack the folding chairs but Bella made no indication to leave. I was really beginning to freeze, my trembling body huddled against hers, the cold prickling through my layers and biting into my skin. Her ungloved hand still clutched at the neatly folded indigo, the pale skin exposed to the elements. I used my hand to cover her own, not sure how I was going to ask her to leave. She startled at the touch, bewildered and distracted, and looked around, her gaze slowly moving to mine.

"It's time to go," Bella said calmly, her arm still linked in mine. A small yellow tractor passed us as we walked to the Volvo, the pile of dirt disappearing as we pulled away from Charlie's final resting place.

…

**BPOV **

I don't know any of these fucking people. I sat on the plush curved couch, a plate of hors d'oeuvres on my lap, the thick slice of mozzarella and tomato topped with chopped basil and olive oil smelling delicious, but the thought of eating it sickened my stomach. Edward was in the kitchen spying on the caterer, and probably dictating to him how the food should be served. Renee had already left, a taxi picking her up in front of the Cullens' house, her duffel bag slung over her shoulder. She hugged me, kissed my cheek and told me to call her if I needed anything. I sighed, slightly grateful at my mother's ability to instantly forgive an argument. That was something I could trust about my mother, Renee didn't hold grudges. I watched her ride off in the back of the cab, any details she could grant me concerning my father riding away with her. _"And a big yellow taxi took away my old man…"_

I thought back to our earlier argument and the sparse information Renee had finally divulged. I had been captivated by her testimony, picturing the scene in my head; my young parents, two fresh-faced beautiful teenagers engaging in flirtatious banter, their world blossoming around them as they discovered their first love. _"As every fairy tale comes real, I've looked at love that way…"_

However, when she mentioned the diner something suddenly clicked in my brain. My father ate meal after meal at that diner after she left, probably reliving his happiest moments, his life set on repeat as he spiraled deeper and deeper into depression. It must be the reason he never cooked anymore, the reason he gorged himself on red meat and saturated fats, the reason he had the heart attack to begin with. It was all because of her.

It didn't explain why he didn't try to find her, or why he didn't put up a fight. He just gave up, choosing to wallow in self-pity instead of trying to find something worth living for, and I couldn't help but wonder why it couldn't have been me, why he didn't think that I was worth it? Why didn't he demand to see me? There were still so many secrets I didn't know, so many questions that needed answers, but I had an inkling as to where I might find them.

Clues. They were in his room, Charlie's room. They had to be. My last hope was that there would be something amongst the neatly stacked piles in Charlie's room that would allow me access to his mind, allow me to know the real reasons behind his supposed indifference.

There was also the risk that I would find nothing.

What if he really was just too wrapped up in his work to follow us? What if he frequented the diner out of convenience? What if I was just digging myself a futile hole of further disappointment? I could give it up, harbor the memories from these months in Forks and file them under I-think-Charlie-kinda-loved-me.

But I had to know. I had to know why, my soul craved the information.

"Bella?" Mr. and Mrs. Hale were standing in front of me, their plastic faces rich with cynical sympathy. "We just wanted to offer our condolences. We're so sorry for your loss, dear." Mrs. Hale spoke as if we were old friends and I wanted to fucking knock the shit out of her. I wanted to scream at her to go hug her own fucking kids and stop pretending to care about me. I actually visualized myself doing it, my hands gripping her boney arms, her blond hair whipping around as I shook her violently.

"Bella?" Mrs. Hale said again, pulling me from my mental musing, her disapproving eyes questioning my behavior.

"What?" I asked her, not really wanting her to respond and slightly hoping she'd get irritated and just walk away.

She sighed, a bit exasperated as she repeated herself. "I said, I'm sorry for your loss."

I just stared at her, her perfect lips outlined in red and smooth skin around her eyes where creases should be. She really didn't know shit about my loss, none of them did. To them, I was to be pitied, a poor child who had just buried her father. But with the loss of my father I had lost opportunity; I had lost my battle with karma, my ever failing quest for cosmic atonement now soiled. I had moved here to help Charlie heal, to save him, to make sense of our relationship and to attempt to peel away the layers of the puzzle I had called my father, and it was all for nothing. I hadn't accomplished anything, failure now my emphatic friend, and these people could never understand that shit. _"No one cares who you really are…"_

I snorted, the thought of the woman before me ever being able to commiserate with me ridiculously hilarious. The pair of them puffed off with their cocky feathers all a ruffle and I felt a small internal pride at their discomfort.

It was like that the rest of the afternoon; Billy, Charlie's buddies from the station, all the kids from school and their parents, Mike Newton, Tyler Crowley, even Jessica fucking Stanley, all of them coming to express their sympathy, all of them sorry for my loss, all of them staring at me with that same pitiful look on their faces. The pressure in the room was starting to ripple around me, my ears ringing and my eyes blurring.

But when Sue Clearwater pulled me into her arms, whispering thank you into my ear, praising me for all I had done to care for my father, I thought back to my first weeks here when I had done nothing, a time when I couldn't find it within myself to care for him as I should have. Sue cried into my shoulder, her soft, capable hands on my face, and I felt grief pummel through me, rooting in my stomach and spreading like an infectious disease, my emotions weakened, a parasite allowed to anchor in my body.

Warmth burned on my skin and damp moisture dewed on my forehead as the room began to spin. I needed air, I needed to breathe. I needed Edward. Escaping from her grasp I searched the lower floor for him, stopping every couple of steps to brace myself against the wall, struggling to maintain consciousness. I clumsily shifted around the bodies, their faces the very bowels of compassion. I couldn't stand the way they were looking at me so I closed my eyes, the darkness intensifying the dizziness as I struggled to catch my breath. I was frantic now, panting and stumbling, my legs like liquid beneath my body, the muscles sore and aching as I ran my hand against the wall as a guide.

I finally found the kitchen. Edward was washing dishes in the sink and I grabbed at his arm, unable to speak and fearing the shit that would pour from my lips if I dared to try. I hadn't eaten or slept well in days, the deficiencies now beginning to manifest themselves and this, combined with the emotional turmoil spiraling around me, caused me to descend into incoherency.

Edward immediately acknowledged the situation and wrapped his arms around me as I collapsed into him, letting him carry my weight.

"Bella? What's wrong? What's going on?" Edward's sharp voice spun around my head, my ears ringing and stuffy as he reconnected my link with awareness.

"Edward…something to drink…water or something," I managed to mumble, my hands shaking as I clenched them into fists so he wouldn't notice.

Edward grabbed a glass and filled it will water from the tap, still holding me to his side as he placed the glass in my trembling hand. I could see the panic on his face and he dragged me to the kitchen table while the water spilled over the side of the glass, placing me in a chair and practically shoving a handful of crackers from one of the cheese trays down my throat. I ignored the twinge in my tummy as it growled in protest and choked down the crackers, the crumbs sticking to my black sweater, and rinsed my mouth thoroughly with a long gulp of water.

Edward knelt on the ground before me, his face plastered with worry, and I couldn't stand to see him like this, his eyes wide and alarmed, his mouth gaping as he breathed heavily from his swift reaction. And then I saw pain, torture painting its way into every crease and shadow of his lovely angular face. I had caused it, I put it there, marred his beautiful features with fear and anguish.

"I just couldn't breathe, you know? They just keep giving me these looks and I just…" I muttered, closing my eyes only to be reminded of the disequilibrium still swelling around me. "I gotta get out of here, Edward. Can you take me home?" I just wanted to be back in my room, wrapped in my comforter with him, naked feet and groping hands and some fucking normalcy.

"You need to eat something else first. I'll take you home as soon as you eat something substantial, some pasta or something. There's marinara. I made sure Esme ordered you marinara," Edward insisted quietly, and I sighed, fucking irritated as all shit at this manipulation, but conceded to his terms because, well, I would have done anything to get that look off his face.

I nodded and Edward left my side and returned with a small plate of pasta. He sat at the table with me while I ate, his eyes gauging the amount of noodles I shoveled into my mouth compared with the amount of noodles I pushed around my plate.

Unease began at once to burden my gut and I found myself wishing for the solace of the porcelain bowl. Fuck, I wanted to puke so badly. I wanted it out of me, longing for the emptiness, the shallow grumble begging for my attention, the pang of hunger far more tolerable than this new pain tearing through me. I quickly finished the plate, stifling that compulsion yet again, weary from the struggle and just wanting to get the fuck out of here.

I dropped the fork to the plate, the loud clang causing him to startle. "There. Can we go now?" I asked him, unable to hide the sardonic pulse in my voice.

Edward flinched at my words, his eyes flat as he nodded, and again I fought the impending nausea. I knew this wasn't his fault but I was just so fucking sick of people watching me, judging me, worrying about me. I know they were just doing it because they cared but I was starting to get a little overwhelmed by the constant supervision.

Edward drove me home, the silence in the car fueled primarily by my previous caustic attitude. His features were pensive but contaminated by the discontent that was brewing in the small space. He was upset, I could tell. I took a deep breath, trying to force the day from my mind, trying to regain some of my previous comfort, but no matter what I did I couldn't push from my mind that I was going home to an empty house.

We walked in the door, our previous habit of going directly to my bedroom not yet abandoned. I fell onto my bed, pulling my boots off and throwing them in the corner. It was early evening, maybe five or six, but the sky was already darkening, the constant cloud layer deflecting the warmth of the sun.

Edward remained in the doorway with his hands in his pockets, his hair falling in front of his sullen, mournful eyes, his gaze inspecting the chipped paint of the doorframe. This was going to be bad, I could feel it.

I waited patiently, watching him as he composed his impending lecture. I knew it was coming, I could almost see the battle raging within him. He wanted to question me about my eating, he wanted to reprimand, but he also wanted to show me that he had confidence in my ability to take care of myself. On a different day I may have deflected his questioning, I may have avoided the conflict, I may have pretended everything was fine and distracted him from this contention.

But today, I was done. I was tired. I was ruined and I wanted to feel every bitter sting of his disappointment. I wanted this battle, I wanted him to call me out, warn me, scold me, hold me accountable for my behavior. So I asked for it.

"Just fucking say something. I can practically see the words on your lips," I said, my voice too antagonistic, the tone sharp and combative.

"What do you want me to say, Bella? You've heard it all before," Edward asked dejectedly, noting my attitude and responding accordingly. He knew what I wanted, what I was asking for, and he felt guilty giving it to me. He didn't want to hurt me, he didn't want to be patronizing or condescending or contribute to my further anguish by bringing this up now.

"I want you to tell me what you're thinking. I want you to just be honest with me and stop trying to protect me. Just tell me the truth," I demanded. He nodded, pursing his lips in contemplation, trying to figure out a way to tell me what I already knew, that I had disappointed him.

He was quiet a long time before moving to sit beside me on the bed. He sighed, choosing his words carefully, but it really didn't matter. I was already craving the fight, dying for the release of tension and just waiting to unload all this bullshit negativity that had been suffocating my soul for the past week.

"I haven't seen you eat much this week," Edward said objectively. Clever boy, no accusations what-so-ever, not in his words or in his tone, a fucking "I" statement meant to absorb the blame. I'm sure he could sense my agitation and was just trying to diffuse the situation, but this only pissed me off further, wishing he would just tell me what he was really thinking.

"I haven't really been hungry much this week. I've kinda had other things on my mind," I responded. His proximity quelled some of my initial irritation but then Edward sighed again, a telltale sign that he wasn't being entirely honest, that he was masking his true feelings.

"Just fucking tell me, Edward. Every time you sigh, I want to fucking scream, will you just tell me already?" I rambled through clenched teeth, moving to sit on my knees on the bed and closing my eyes, my hands pulling at my hair. I wanted to hear the words come out of his mouth, I wanted to feel them cut right through me, swift and accurate like the long blade of his chef's knife slipping through flawless produce.

"Bella, I realize you're dealing with some shit here. I know this shit. I know what you're doing, I've lived it," Edward began, his words slightly terse as he matched my tone. "But you couldn't even fucking walk, you almost passed out. You have no idea how that scares the living shit out of me."

"So what are you going to do, Edward? Force feed me? Hold me hostage until I eat?" I mocked, and his face flinched, a small betraying flicker that held his true desires. That was it. That was exactly what he wanted to do.

He knew I had noticed, his eyes holding mine a split second before he stood up and walked to the window. "Is that what it's going to take? I mean, what are you trying to say? What the hell is going on here Bella?"

"What the fuck do you think is going on here?" I stood up, throwing my hands in the air, the turmoil simmering within me boiling over and fucking sizzling through every cell of my body. "My dad is dead, Edward, and I couldn't help him. My mom won't tell me anything and I'm struggling every day just to fucking breathe! I can't breathe, I can't sleep, and I'm tired," I shouted as I paced the room. "I'm just so fucking tired."

"And you…" I stopped in front of him and looked up at his exasperated expression, his face dumbfounded at my outburst. "You think forcing me to do anything is really going to help? You think I don't notice the way you watch me, critiquing my food choices, biting your tongue when I don't eat what you want me to eat? You don't know what I'm going through, you haven't lived _this_. You have no idea what it's like to have to live every day with this struggle." My chest was heaving and I relished in the pounding of my heart, the fire in my veins, just grateful to be feeling something other than numbness, my eyes glaring into his as he took a step forward.

"You know that's not true, and I'm not even going to argue with you about this because it's ridiculous and belittles everything I've dealt with, everything I am," Edward said fiercely, spitting the words as he stepped closer until he was almost touching me and I had to crane my neck to match his gaze. It was ridiculous, I knew, it was all bullshit, but I just let the words fall from my mouth. They weren't really even meant for him, just an internal rant that should have remained silent, but it was out there now and Edward was pissed and I felt like a complete and utter shithead, but I'm a stubborn ass and my proud brain refused to let me concede.

"You won't argue because you know I'm right," I said, the words like bile stuck in the back of my throat, acid burning in my mouth.

Edward towered over me now and I could see the anger in his face, his fists clenched as he breathed through his nose. He shook his head, muttering my name, and he was going to fucking tell me off, his pupils wide and swallowing up the green.

"Bella…" His face was so close to mine I could smell his sweet breath, could see the sharp points of his teeth, his lips curling as he snarled my name.

"What, Edward? What?" I spat, egging him on. He was fuming now and I thought he was going to yell at me and call me names, tell me I was an idiot, wrong and fucked up, and he would have been completely accurate. I braced myself for it, ready to absorb the blow and relish in my admitted failure.

He gripped my arm, his fingers practically encompassing the width of it, and pulled me into him, his mouth crashing to mine with frantic, visceral need. I pushed him away, something I had never done, and I immediately regretted it, pure remorse sickening my stomach, but the look on his face completely astounded me. It was horrifying, complete mortification surrounding his downtrodden features, rejection and hurt overwhelming as his hands fell to his side, his eyes darting to the floor.

Fuck! Why won't he just yell at me, tell me I'm crazy or to fuck off or something? I was being completely irrational and his response was to kiss me? Frustrated now that Edward wouldn't give in to my attempt to provoke him, I pushed further. I wanted to see him explode with anger, an anger I had seen him use so many times to bend a situation to his will, to trigger a reaction that he craved. I knew it was so completely unjust but I was fully submersed now, invested in suffocating myself with the fury pounding in my brain.

"Just say it, Edward," I goaded, moving closer to him as he backed up, two negatives repelling against each other as he refused to connect, still avoiding my eyes, his rejection meeting mine. I continued to move closer though, his back unexpectedly hitting the wall with a soft thud.

"What is it? You're disappointed in me, you think I'm too much trouble, not worth the struggle?" I asked bitterly, every resentment I held for my father pouring out of me now, every insecurity I'd ever felt I placed in Edward's hands. It was so unfair to do this to him, to place this on his shoulders, but I was desperate now, craving the anger, savoring the vindication I was feeling in the accusations.

I pulled at the collar of his black button up shirt with one hand, my fingers gripping the material, and his shoulders relaxed as I craned my neck to connect our eyes. He looked away further and shifted his position in avoidance, which only spurred me on. I brought my hand to mirror the other, his shirt now clutched in my fingers, and I pulled at the fabric, shaking him, trying to get him to look at me.

"Edward. Just say it," I demanded, trying to meet his eyes. "Look at me, damn it. Look at my face at tell me I'm wrong."

He refused still, his face a mask of discontent. I shook him more violently, my strength pathetic, but he let me push him against the wall, his head flinging back to hit the wall again.

"Edward! Fucking look at me!" I shouted, needing his attention now, the quiet lack of acknowledgement causing my chest to tighten with trepidation. I was frantic, desperate to be submerged in something other than hate and pain and uncertainty.

He slowly turned his head to look down at me, his jade rings barely discernible in the dimly lit room as he ground his teeth together in protest, his breathing heavy as he struggled to control his reactions. His fists lightly thumped against the wall at his sides and I pulled again at his shirt. Edward's eyes closed again and he leaned in to press his forehead against mine. His touch crackled and hissed beneath my skin, relief at the contact, the connection now palpable so I roughly pulled his lips to mine. His reaction was hesitant so I kissed him again, his response the same, unmoving, unfeeling, my anger growing with each avoided gaze and each kiss refused and I jerked back, furious at his indifference.

He rolled his head against the wall, the conflict waging through him, but finally he responded. His hands clutched my face, his thumbs on my cheeks as he pulled me against his lips, his mouth exploding with activity, his tongue rolling around my mouth in a panicked rush, his ferocious need consuming, his urgent lips electrifying every impulse and prompting my every reaction.

And it was there, the satisfaction rough on my mouth, the anger still fueling my need. I frantically pulled apart his button-up shirt sending a few of the buttons clattering to the floor as I pushed the material from his shoulders and hurriedly pulled his undershirt over his head. I pressed my fingers into the flesh of his chest, moving my hands across his sides and clutching at his back. His hand knotted in my hair as he pulled my head back to expose my neck. He kissed my skin, moist sucking kisses as I panted, his other hand at my waistband swiftly freeing the fabric from my hips as it fell around my feet. He shoved his hand into my panties, no gentle caresses, no hesitation, just pure libidinal craving his motivation, both of us releasing a quiet throaty moan as his fingers slipped against my pulsing flesh and pushed into me with intensity. I pressed my hips against his hand, panting and groaning, my fingers curled, the short nails digging into the lithe muscles of his back as he continued to draw his fingers out of me and push them back in, and I needed to feel him within me.

Sensing my fervor he kicked off his shoes and began to unfasten his pants, my hands frantically trying to help as I pulled his pants and boxers off his legs, his erection pressing against my stomach as his hands gripped my ass. His fingers slipped into the cotton barrier and pushed it aside as he pulled my leg up over his hip and slid into me, his hand gripping my thigh as he pulsed, fast and frantic and just fucking destroying every ounce of resentment I had left, channeling my angry energy towards satisfying the ache burning throughout my body.

Wanting to shed the thin amount of cotton burdening the fullness of his touch, I pulled back to slip the material down my legs and I barely had time to step away from the fabric before Edward's hands were on me again, greedy lust in his eyes, his fingers pulling the sweater over my head as I shed my black bra, his fingers pressing into my flesh. He kissed me again, his tongue licking at my lips, my neck, my breasts, his urgency making the bed obsolete as he swiftly knelt to the floor, pulling me onto his erection and wrapping his arms around my waist, pulling and pushing with a deep fulfillment that caused me to gasp at the intensity. He rocked back and forth, pushing into me as he leaned back, sending the fiery current abounding through every limb, every cell.

Oh, God, I needed this feeling! I needed this to distract me from the shit storm that had been my life this week. I needed the sense of accomplishment, to rectify the failure that had been our last intimate interaction, to know that I could bring Edward to this place of bliss, that I could be successful in loving him, sweet reprieve in his moans and pants, the auditory reassurance reverberating in the small room. For a moment, just a split second, I almost hushed Edward out of habit, fearful that we would be heard. I then realized that no one would hear, we were alone in the quiet house, Charlie's house.

I couldn't stop the thoughts from seething into my brain, my emotions now a violent spiral twisting out of control. The last time I had felt Edward like this my father had been dying, cardiac arrest seizing his body, his heart failing to do its job, and he was alone. I couldn't deny my own failures, my stubborn soul seemingly content on failing at everything, and I struggled to maintain control. I couldn't breathe, gasping, choking on the images invading my brain. Heaving over that white bowl, cool tile, warm marinara, my father's body shaking as his heart began to constrict, smoking on the porch, the overwhelming euphoria as Edward pressed into me, his hands upon my skin, his smell swirling around me, my head confounded and fuzzy, an incoherent barrage of the constant reminders of my failures, my inadequacies…my self destruction…my _solace_…Fuck! How am I going to fix this? How am I going to fix me? I gasped, the sound a panicked cry, and I choked back the tears I could feel burning in my eyes.

"Bella…are you okay? Are you hurt?" Edward panted, his velvet hum startling me back into reality, his eyes appraising and panicked, worry creasing his brow. I blinked, shaking my head slightly as I kept his gaze. No. I refused to fail at this. It was the first time I had felt normal and good and right since Charlie died and I wouldn't let go of that feeling. He tried to gently push me off but I leaned forward as he stretched his legs out beneath me. He was about to stop but I maintained our conjoined position, rocking my hips against him, the friction causing that tremble to begin it's seizure through my limbs.

"Bella…" he said again, beginning to stir beneath me, but I refused to let him go. I pushed at his shoulders, forceful conviction in the action, his head slumping against the floor with a soft thud. I hovered over him, my breasts grazing against the bare skin of his chest.

He could have thrown me off him if he wanted, he could have pressed the issue, and I waited, afraid of his rejection, afraid he would dispute me.

Instead, he grabbed my hips and thrust into me, simultaneously lifting his hips and pulling me down onto him hard, a guttural gasp of pleasure escaping my mouth, and I immediately craved the force again.

And he provided it for me, let me have control, fast and hard and frantic, over and over and over, gripping my thighs until we were both disrupting the quiet of the house, our cries of ecstasy filling the void as we trembled together, his body writhing beneath mine as I moved quickly, driving myself down to meet him and reveling in the sweet victory of our union, a torrent of sweet symbiotic relief flooding and drowning any of the leftover hostility. I yelled for religious idols, I cried profanities as the sensation became too intense and my toes curled as he pressed his face to my chest, his own groans filling the room, his lips grazing the flesh of my breast as his warm, wet breath vibrated off my skin. Even after my climax hit me like a fucking freight train, I couldn't let go of him, gratification coursing through every element of my body. He continued to pull me onto him, his hands forceful and desperate, the pleasure turning to unbearable sensitivity before his eyes rolled back and I watched the orgasm take over his every movement, feeling him pulse within me as he tightened his arms around my waist, my breathing becoming labored by the constricting embrace. He held me to him for a long time, our breathing heavy and gasping and my body heaving as I placed my head on his chest to listen to his frantic heartbeat.

Edward's hand tangled into my hair, his neck craning to press his lips against the top of my head. I was freezing so I pulled the comforter from the bed, wrapping it around us on the floor, a naked, tangled heap of legs and arms as I finally felt the encompassing authority of exhaustion oozing into my limbs, my eyelids heavy from the lack of sleep. I felt dizzy and the room spun as I felt myself floating in and out of consciousness, that dull ache in my heart silenced for the time being and allowing me the comfort of rest.

…

I awoke early in the morning to find myself in my bed, my body clothed in soft cotton. Edward lay next to me, asleep and still, his white undershirt twisted around his torso, his legs bare against mine. There was a small stack of books beside him, notes scribbled onto sheets of paper, and I realized I had fallen asleep very early in the evening. He must have dressed me and moved me to the bed to let me sleep comfortably, and I let my fingers sweep across the skin of his cheek, awed by Edward's nurturing soul, so peaceful beside me.

The bitter taste of remorse was fresh on my tongue; my sharp words had been hurtful and demeaning, but what followed overshadowed any of the words I could have said. Last night our love was angry and coarse, it was the culmination of all the emotions I had been swimming in for the last six days. It was stressed and frantic, desperate, and for all the wrong reasons. It was not what I thought our love should be, a fast and frenzied fuck replacing the more toxic emotions we had been choking on.

It was also incredibly gratifying.

It was an indescribable feeling knowing that Edward needed me like he did last night, that he desired me in the most primal and intimate of ways and that I could fulfill that need in him. It assuaged some of the guilt of my other shortcomings, making me feel that in some way Edward needed me the same way I needed him, that I could offer him something other than worry and distress. I knew that Edward enjoyed my company; our friendship developed early on was undeniable. But last night, the manifestation of our love was physical proof and affirmation of our cosmic connection. Even as I voiced the most poisonous of remarks, that irrefutable magnetism forced us together, despite his best attempts to deny it.

I knew in this moment that Edward would never leave me, the realization bringing relief in the fact that no matter what might befall me, I would always have Edward's energy to draw from. Consequently, a pang of disease began to burden my mind; Edward would never leave me, but that didn't mean that this was for the best. Just because there was this undeniable connection between the two of us, an attraction that superseded all other needs, it didn't mean that Edward should indulge. We truly were binary stars, crafted of the same elements, drawing from each other's energy, but what if I started to take more than my share? What if I began to collapse into myself and consumed the nurturing care that Edward offered until I exhausted it, destroyed the delicately passionate person that slept so serenely beside me? I couldn't ever let that happen, the very thought of it causing tears to fill my eyes and twisting my stomach in disgust, and I shook the thought from my mind, craning to place a small kiss upon Edward's parted lips. _"There are still more reasons why I love him…"_

No longer tired, my mind swirling with implications and affirmations, I left the warm bed to go to the restroom, inspecting my sallow face in the mirror, my eyes bagged and dark, creases etched between my eyebrows and around my mouth. I looked horrible, like something right out of a horror flick, and I quickly washed my face trying to scrub away some of the crease and worry invading my features.

I walked down the hall and stopped at Charlie's door, the silence of the house pounding in my ears. I longed for the sound of his television set and was overwhelmed with a sudden need for my father, to smell him, to feel his whiskers on my cheek, to hear his grumbly voice. I opened the door and walked into the room, letting the scents attack my senses. I flicked on the light to see piles and piles of Charlie stacked neatly throughout the room, but I knew what I wanted. I tentatively walked to his dresser, the soft pine musty as I opened the drawer and pulled out his shirts, inhaling them. I dug through the drawers looking for one of his flannel shirts, searching for soft fabric, but found a hard box instead, the polished wood oily on my fingers. My heart pounded as I pulled the box from the drawer, immediately noticing the familiar smell, my stomach clenched in tight anticipation and dread.

I shook my head in disbelief, opening the box to find a dark, smooth cherrywood pipe, the carbon deposits freshly caked on the bottom of the bowl. I brought it to my face inhaling the smell, tears slipping from my eyelids. The box also contained a bag of tobacco, the sweet aromatic blend overwhelming my emotions. I don't know how many times I had searched for this scent; I had visited smoke shops, harassing the annoyed cashier, asking for samples and inhaling them and just begging for one of them to spark some kind of recollection. I opened the bag before me, the fresh tobacco still slightly moist, and I saw him sitting on the front porch with the mouth piece situated under his moustache, the smoke swirling from his lips as he puffed on the stem. I sobbed, clutching the bag to my chest, my sorrow released in great gasps as I grabbed one of his flannel shirts from his drawer and moved to sit on his bed.

I wrapped the shirt around me, pushing my hands through the long sleeves, the material swallowing up my frame as I pulled the fabric to my face, committing that smell to memory and wiping my face with the soft flannel. I pulled a pinch of tobacco from the bag, wiping my nose with the back of my hand, trickling the strands into the bowl of the pipe until it was full, using a pencil on the nightstand to lightly tamp it down; I'd seen him do this hundreds of times when I was younger. I placed the mouthpiece to my lips and inhaled to make sure there weren't any obstructions. Finding none, I topped off the bowl, another slight tamp, and then I pulled a box of matches from the wooden box. Lighting one, I charred the top of the tobacco, taking a few shallow puffs and letting the fire burn out. I lightly tamped the tobacco down again and lit another match, pulling the flame over the dried leaf and puffing on the pipe, slow and rhythmic, extinguishing any open flame and letting the tobacco smolder. The smoke swirled around my face, the smooth, robust flavors of vanilla and almond on my tongue as I breathed in the aroma and felt something I hadn't felt in a long time, something that I had been searching for the entire time I had been in Phoenix, the craving that had prompted my move to Forks.

I felt like I was home.

…

Joni Songs Referenced

_Big Yellow Taxi_

_Clouds_

_The Circle Game_

_Willy_

Reviews are nice...


	24. Songs to Aging Children Come

**Darlings,**

Thank you for kind words my lovelies! I won't be posting again until after the new year and I may not get to respond to your notes, but I love you and I wish you all happy, peaceful memories. I'm such a sap around the holidays...

Goddess of grammar, priestess of punctuation, **n7of9**, thank you for your brainstorms of brilliancy. One week, one week, one week...

Disclaimer: It's not mine.

**CH. 24 **_**"Songs to Aging Children Come"**_

**EPOV**

I watched Bella's hips swivel as she sauntered up the stairs in front of me, a fucking pounding in my ears as the silence of the dark house bellowed. This was as natural to me as breathing; I had been following Bella up these stairs every day for almost a year now, but today trepidation bled heavy in my every footstep. Just minutes ago, Bella had been on the verge of unconsciousness, collapsing into me at her father's funeral, and now she was just ambling up to her room like nothing had even happened. She flopped onto her bed, shedding her boots and tossing them aside, her feet hanging over the edge as she sank into the soft mattress.

She hadn't been eating and hadn't slept in days, and when she stumbled into my kitchen today with panic in her eyes and her skin laden with sheen, I just fucking lost it. I wasn't planning on hashing this out tonight but I couldn't hide my fears any longer, I couldn't stop the stress from showing on my face even though I knew she was looking for it, waiting for me to fuck everything up, waiting for the soapbox spiel, just fucking waiting for something to break. I tried to avoid it by making sure nothing I said sounded like an accusation, because, really, that's not what this was about. I wasn't trying to prove a point or win an argument, I was fucking scared and I just wanted to make sure everything was okay. I just needed to know that Bella was okay.

But then Bella asked me a question that sickened my stomach, the inquisition sarcastic in nature and meant to be demeaning. This wasn't what made me sick though; it was my response to it, the first answer to pop into my brain upon registering her words.

"So what are you going to do, Edward? Force feed me? Hold me hostage until I eat?" Bella asked, and I could hardly meet her eyes, afraid the contact would betray my true answer. Because the answer was a most emphatic yes. I would do whatever it took to make sure she was healthy and safe, even if it meant bribing, forcing, or manipulating, I didn't fucking care. I would refuse to let Bella destroy herself.

She knew it too, the glint in her eye was like a fucking spotlight on my betraying face. With the flood gates now open, she unleashed a stream of allegations at me and all I could do was gape as she huffed around the room, her fury expanding in the small space and vibrating off the walls.

"And you…" she said, her small body in front of me, hands on her hips and heaving as she shook, her words spitting from her lips as she stared directly into my face. "You think forcing me to do anything is really going to help? You think I don't notice the way you watch me, critiquing my food choices, biting your tongue when I don't eat what you want me to eat? You don't know what I'm going through, you haven't lived with _this_. You have no idea what it's like to have to live every day with this struggle." Bella's eyes were determined, her brow crouched in indignation.

I knew this was an attempt to antagonize me, I knew it, but I couldn't stop her words from invading and taking root. I couldn't hedge the resentment metastasizing throughout my entire body. She wasn't completely wrong; it was so incredibly difficult to not at least pay attention to what she was eating, and I tried to hide it and be subtle but obviously she could tell, and I felt like a goddamned fool. But how could she possibly think that I didn't understand? Fuck! I had people all over my shit; Carlisle, Esme, Alice, all of them watching me for signs. Carlisle and his damn indicators and Alice with her fucking cards, it was almost laughable that Bella would think I didn't know what it was like to be watched, that I couldn't relate. I had lost my parents, too. I fucking knew what she was going through, I fucking knew this. It was the same shit I had gone through during my days of self-destruction, the very reason I sought out the fight, because the bruises and cuts felt better than the emotional anguish that continuously punched through my everyday interactions.

"You know that's not true, and I'm not even going to argue with you about this because it's ridiculous and belittles everything I've dealt with, everything I am," I spouted, my frustration recognizable in my voice and inflection, meant to dispute her absurd claims. I moved toward her as if the proximity would emphasize the legitimacy of the words.

But she matched my stance, her nose turned up as she glared at me, smug as all shit.

"You won't argue with me, because you know I'm right," she said, mighty in her words and with a strength and conviction in her voice as her stubbornness pushed through her insecurities.

I knew what she was doing. She wanted me to fight with her, give in and support her self-deprecating behavior. She wanted me to tell her she was wrong, or that she had upset me, that she had failed in her attempts to monitor her eating habits. She wanted me to point out that at the first sign of distress, she abandoned all progress. It wasn't that I wasn't thinking it, because I was. I was fucking making myself sick with the shit I as thinking about, but I couldn't be the one to give into this. She wanted to feel like shit but I refused to indulge her.

So many emotions were crushing me now: fear, frustration, panic. I just wanted to make it go away, make every horrible feeling and thought fucking disappear, so I did what I could. I kissed her, I pulled her into me and I kissed her, hoping it would dissipate the hostility between us and abate her poisonous thoughts. I was just fucking praying that maybe she'd feel something other than pain and that maybe she'd be able to dwell on that for a moment instead.

Two small hands on my chest pushed me away, my contact rejected as confusion clouded my focus. Again, I was helpless, useless, unable to offer her anything that she would accept. She didn't want this kiss and I was frustrated as all hell that I couldn't dissuade her from her malignant self-loathing. I was fucking crushed and embarrassed at the rejection and just fucking shaken by my inability to comfort and nourish her. I mean, fuck, if I couldn't bring comfort to the one person who mattered, the one person who needed it the most, what the fuck good was I? If I couldn't nourish Bella, my whole existence was fucking pointless.

She continued to lay her accusations as she stalked towards me, but I couldn't look at her. I knew I couldn't say anything useful because at this point she was so far gone, nothing I could say would make any difference. She was deflecting her emotion, trying to force me into giving her the reaction she was craving, using anger as a tool to mask her helplessness. I could have easily given in to that anger, I could have manifested her pain and transformed it into pure disgust. It was fucking torture to deny her, to not give in to her every desire, even when her desire was self-loathing.

But I was no stranger to this anger and forcing it was futile. It would abate her sadness and pain for a while but would leave a wave of hurt and regret in its wake. I wouldn't allow our connection to be siphoned by the residual hurt.

I remained silent and let her vent, all her allegations thrown at my feet. She pulled at my shirt to force me to meet her eyes but I just couldn't, I'd crumble the moment I saw her normally warm liquid eyes cold and hard and like packed earth. I let her push me around, her voice still commanding and strength emanating from her, powerful in her frustration. Desperation forced me to finally look at her and be faced with a passion I'd rarely seen in her contemplative eyes. Here she was, irate as all hell, but with a fiery glow surrounding her, a welcome reassurance compared to the empty silence I had witnessed this past week. She looked so…alive. There was no cold stone, no hardened earth.

She was absolutely breathtaking. With her neck stretched long and high and her chest still heaving, she clutched my shirt with fierce resolve and I saw a glimpse of the tenacious and confident woman she could become. I wanted to be there to see her like this, so strong and healthy, almost regal in her every conviction, and the vision left me trembling in awe.

Bella kissed my lips urgently and I felt a current beneath my skin. I struggled to remain indifferent to her attempt to illicit a response but I knew it was a pointless battle, it always had been. Resistance was a trifling waste when it came to Bella. Ever since the first day I saw her at the market, when every self-imposed red flag shocked through my awareness and fate mocked my every attempt to turn away, I couldn't withstand the power she had over me.

And now I was changed because of it. Bella had smothered me in acceptance and affection, her love providing me a distraction from my own fucked up shit. Bella offered me an alternative in its purest form. She kissed me again, another reminder of what Bella had offered me when she chose to give me her love. Even through all my apprehension, all my self-disgust and destructive behavior, she was always able to find it within herself to unsparingly give me her love – and this is what I could give Bella.

I couldn't ever make up for her father's absence from her young life, I couldn't ever make her mother put Bella's needs ahead of her own, I couldn't give her the explanations she desired, and I couldn't ever take away her compulsions and desire to deny herself nourishment and care - but I could adore her.

I surrendered to her then and pulled her face to mine, frantic and desperate to give this to her, to make her feel ease, even if it was only for a short time, clinging to the pure gratification in the contact of our skin. I relished in the sweet reunion. Fuck, I had missed her. I had been with her every day since Charlie had died but she hadn't really _been_ here and now I was greedy in my touch, grasping at her skin, pulling at her hair and frantic to get to her. I kissed her neck, yanking the bit of fabric that clung between us, desperate to touch her flesh, to feel her quivering around me. I stripped her legs free of the heavy material, eager as I pushed my way around the small cotton panties to feel her warmth on my fingers with a throaty hum as I matched her relief at the contact. The sounds from her lips urged me to move faster as her body fucking writhed against mine.

I needed more. The power of my desire completely absorbed me and my mind tracked towards fulfilling the desire. My hands trembled in anticipation as they tried to manipulate the fasteners at my waistband. I felt her fingers tangle with mine and pull at the button as she quickly removed my pants, my hands clutching her thigh as I hitched her leg around my hip, positioning myself beneath her and slipping the elastic band aside as I thrust into her, immersed and consumed by the soft, silky flesh. My hips pushed into her roughly, egged on by the fluttering of her eyelids and her parted mouth gasping with every thrust. I poured my adoration into this girl, almost begging her to feel it and accept it and let it comfort her. I felt her alive in my arms, vibrant and passionate and just so goddamn fucking sexy, my desire for her completely overwhelming and my hunger for ecstasy inciting every push of my hips, every pull of my hands, our slippery skin a conduit of pure lust.

She pulled away and I growled at the lack of contact as she pulled her sweater over her head and removed the last barriers between us, every bit of her glowing ivory skin now exposed. I pulled her with me to floor, the wood shockingly icy against my bare skin, and wrapped my arms tight around her small waist, her body grinding against my lap as I filled her deeply, her warmth completely surrounding me. I continued to pull her onto me, rocking my hips, grasping and heaving, her long hair tickling my fingers pressed into her back. Raw sexual energy radiated around us and I completely relinquished myself to her as I groaned into the dark and quiet house.

Bella gasped as she stuttered and muffled a cry, and I struggled to regain my composure. Something was wrong! She stilled and slumped against me, her eyes closed and her face contorted in pain as I leaned back to look at her face.

"Bella…are you okay? Are you hurt?" I asked, out of breath. This was too soon, too frantic, her pained expression surely a dead giveaway. She opened her eyes and held my gaze with determination as she again ground herself against me, and I struggled to not give in to her persuasion, her hesitation just moments ago still fresh in my mind. Fuck! Of course she was upset! She had just buried her father and now this! I had to stop this, let her know that she didn't have to do this, that we could wait until she had some time to sort out her emotions.

"Bella…" I shifted and stretched my legs beneath me, the floor piercing cold against my naked skin as I sat up and tried to pull her off my lap, but she tightened her knees around my hips, her thighs pressed into my waist. Her eyes peered into mine with a fire smoldering behind them and again that regality exuded from her every fiber. She shoved my shoulders to the ground sending my head thumping against the floor, a spiraling jolt of pleasure surging through me. Fucking amazing. She wasn't very strong and the thin muscles of her tiny arms strained as she pushed against my chest, but I let myself fall, let her feel her power, the power she possessed over me as I quivered beneath her.

It was so fucking torturously seductive the way she hovered over me as my fingers clutched her flesh, her intensity tangible in her every breath. She was waiting for my response and a flicker of apprehension clouded her features. In one swift thrust I released all hesitation, giving her back some control over the situation; even if it was just for this moment, if all she could control was this, I would give that to her.

I let Bella lead me and her desires quickly fueled my own, and holy fucking shit, did she lead. It was messy and fast as her body ground and rocked, her hips moving with fervor as she sought gratification. Her dark hair swirled around her shoulders and hid her face and I wanted to push it out of the way, but I couldn't bring myself to allow my hands to let go of her. I watched her features transform, the crease in her forehead softening, her tight jaw now slack as her lips parted and the energy between us intensified, the steam of the previous hostility now a mere sigh of relief. Pressure began to expand in my chest as emotion overwhelmed my entire body, my heart expanding, trying to take it all in, trying to internalize every touch, every jolt, every breath, and I couldn't control the agonizing adoration I felt for this girl. God, I wanted so much to give her everything, to be everything for her, the emotion twisting around my chest like a tourniquet constricting any other function and leaving only one goal, one priority, one life-giving force to absorb: Bella. Love Bella, adore her, accept her, live for her, live with her, consume her, and be consumed. I submitted to this task, the desire suffocating as my eager soul relished the opportunity. I tried to breathe but tears welled in my eyes as I wept at the all consuming power of the emotion. This was something I had never in my life experienced, to love so completely, be so deeply encompassed with adoration that it actually physically hurt. Because it did, the pressure in my chest, the swelling in my heart, the pounding of my blood streaming through my body anxious and desperate and overwhelmed with love: it was excruciating. And it was all for her. It was all I had to give, this love, and I wanted to give it to Bella every moment of every day for as long as my heart continued to pulse within my body. As long as there was a breath of life left in my soul, it would belong to her. _I_ would belong to her.

"Fuck!" Bella breathed, the word rolling around her mouth an incessant number of times. I lifted my head, the passion in her voice catching my awareness. I pulled myself up and felt the flushed skin of her breast against my face as the salt of my tears smeared her skin, and I couldn't stop the groans now taking over, my body bound to the craving as Bella and I collided, her movements turning from lust and anger to satisfaction. I felt that coil begin to stretch deep inside my groin, the intense gratification pouring through my body clouding my thoughts and removing any hesitation. My hands pulled at her thighs as my hips thrust up to meet hers, a blur of visceral movement clashing and clutching as our bodies shook with blinding euphoria. I didn't want to let go, didn't want to succumb to the pleasure now tingling through my muscles. I wanted to allow Bella to stay in this place a little bit longer, keep her in a state of bliss and pleasure far from the emptiness that had invaded her soul all week. I fought the urge to give in, staving off the unraveling for as long as I could. And then I felt her constrict around me, her body writhing as she took me with her, my body shaking with relief as the flood of ecstasy washed over me and I pulsed within her. I held her to me, her face against my chest and her hair falling around my shoulders softly and tickling my skin. I felt every part of her as I held her tightly to me, and I couldn't get enough, relishing every breath that moved through her body, her chest heaving against me with every inhale.

Bella pulled the comforter from her bed and wrapped it around us, the draft along the floor beginning to move over my skin. I didn't want to let her go, still moved by the influx of emotion our union had drawn, so I left her to fall asleep on top of me, absorbing her weight even as the discomfort of the hard floor beneath me began to stiffen my joints. It was still fairly early and I wasn't really tired so I shifted until I could lift her. I placed her gently on the bed and after dressing myself got her some pajamas from her dresser and pulled the clothing over her limbs, finally covering her with the comforter. I looked around her room and chose a couple of books from one of her stacks of paperbacks, and grabbed a notebook and pen. I had a couple of recipes running through my head so I situated myself on the bed next to her to jot down some of my ideas before I forgot them. I then opened one of her books, one I hadn't ever read but judging by the tattered cover and the dog-eared pages, Bella had frequently visited. I found myself relishing in the comfort of her soft snore, her breathing easing me into the silence of the dark house.

It was New Year's Eve and I could hear the celebratory hum of the town around me as cars whirred down the slushy street and music thumped from one of the houses nearby, and I found myself reliving the past year of my life, every moment from that first clash with her lavender smell to her hair swirled around her face beside me. It hadn't been perfect or ideal, but it was us, natural and elemental to my very existence. Every pain had been worth it, every punch, every fear, every setback, it all disappeared with one gaze into those deep warm chocolate eyes. The new year brought opportunity, change, and Bella and I were absolutely headed for some big changes. This time next year we would be celebrating the new year in New York and getting ready to move to Italy for the second session of the Academy, and while I knew this was what I wanted, I'd never felt so fucking scared.

And I'd never felt so fucking alive.

…

Jesus, I was cold. I pulled the comforter around my shoulders and nuzzled my face into the down-feather pillow, Bella's lavender scent clinging to the cotton. I stretched my arms wide looking for that soft and warm body, but found nothing but cold sheets beside me. I sat up and ran my hands through my hair, my mouth feeling dry and parched, looking around Bella's bedroom as dull light filled the space. An eerie silence permeated and I noticed that I was alone in the room, the world outside silent and still. I checked the clock on the nightstand: seven thirty-seven. I reluctantly left the warmth of the bed, my bare feet icy against the wood floor.

Walking to the bathroom and still hazy from sleep, I noticed the faint smell of smoke reeking from Charlie's room. I peeked into the room to see Bella draped in flannel and sitting cross legged on the bed, the brand new sheets and quilt that Alice had bought tucked around her legs, and a pipe in her mouth as smoke clouded around her face. The room was a fucking mess with shit thrown everywhere, and Bella looked up at me as I slowly walked in. The bed was covered with papers, handwritten letters, stacks of envelopes, pictures, receipts, bank statements, just loads of paperwork covering the quilt.

"Charlie was still smoking. I found this in his drawer. The tobacco was still moist," Bella said, biting down on the stem of the pipe as she spoke through her clenched jaw.

She removed the pipe from her mouth and used a pencil to lightly snuff out the flame before placing the pipe on the nightstand. I sat on the edge of the bed, moving a few stacks of paper to clear a space.

"And he was still eating at the diner." Bella handed me a receipt, evidence of Charlie's eating habits splayed across the thin thermal tape: grilled sausage sandwich with bell peppers and onions, extra cheese, potato salad, chips, strawberry cheesecake and a diet coke. Yep, a diet coke, and I wondered why he would even bother with the zero calorie soda. Jesus, what the hell was he thinking?

I was starting to think Charlie hadn't ever really planned on getting healthy, his desire to indulge in the greasy edible comforts far greater than his desire to live. Maybe that's why he had been so indifferent to Bella when she first moved here, because he hadn't planned on living long enough to develop a relationship with her. He probably thought their lack of rapport was for her own good, to protect her or some fucking bullshit like that. So he pushed her away, inadvertently reaffirming her belief that he didn't care, that he never had, when in fact the only person he didn't really care about was himself.

Bella stayed in her father's room all day rummaging through his things, absorbing herself in paperwork, searching for clues in every piece of paper that Charlie had saved as she tried to piece together the past. I made her eggs and toast that she didn't eat, the breakfast cold as her plate stood untouched. I heated up some of the tomato bisque I had brought over earlier in the week for lunch, the fragrant soup filming over in a bowl on the nightstand. I sat with her in the closet as she read some of the documents from Charlie's file cabinet, occasionally disclosing small bits of information: Charlie had been on the Debate Team in high school and had received a scholarship offer from some university in California, but he never enrolled; he had been investigated for killing a suspect in the line of duty, but really, what cop hadn't? He had twelve subscriptions to fishing and game magazines and was a proud member of the NRA.

I moved to the bed, absentmindedly turning the glossy pages of a magazine as Bella ransacked his closet, breathing into his clothes and indulging in every scrap of paper she found. She was looking for something; vindication, relief, answers, all of them fueling her frantic forage. She had been in the closet a long while and I walked to the doors to see what she was doing.

"He wrote me letters," she said from her seat on the floor, her swollen eyes glistening, Charlie's belongings looming around her almost swallowing her up. She held a rubber band bound stack with various inscriptions scrawled across the address: _Return to Sender_, _Not at this Address_, _Address Unknown, _black marker decorating the letters in a swirling script. I sighed, afraid at what she would find, yet far greater relieved that she might finally have some answers.

"There are eight stacks like this in this file cabinet." She tore open an envelope and a rectangular slip fell from the folded paper, Charlie's print swift and neat across the page. Bella handed me the slip and I took it from her outstretched fingers. It was a fifty dollar check, made out to Isabella Swan, Charlie's signature at the bottom.

She soaked up the letters on the page, smoothing her hand over the folded paper as she moved through them one by one, each of them containing a check, each one addressed to her ten year old self. I let her read while I occupied myself with tidying the stacks, a kaleidoscope of expressions drifting across her face as she read, sometime emitting a scoff, sometimes a giggle, and every now and then crying, her hand reaching to wipe at her face. I left her to take a shower and returned to find Bella still submerged in her father's correspondence. This time I left to make dinner only to return to her sobbing over a slip of paper.

"Renee didn't even open them, she just sent them back. Why would she do that?" Bella asked me, undoubtedly not expecting an answer, frustration leaking from her every syllable as the letter within her fingers trembled.

"I can't believe she did this. It's such a violation, you know? She kept him from me. She lied to me. Flat out fucking lied. And eventually he gave up." Tears rolled down her cheeks as she brought the flannel to wipe at her face, the bundle clutched to her chest.

"All this time I thought he didn't want me, that I wasn't good enough, and it was all her fault. And now he's gone, Edward, and I'll never get to make it right, it'll never be right." I knelt to the floor next to her and pulled her into my arms as she sobbed against my chest, her face pressed into my undershirt, the magnitude of her loss just beginning to disclose itself.

As Bella poured herself into these letters, swallowing each one of them up, I recognized that determination on her face. It was the same determination I had seen last night, the same power and strength that she had allowed to briefly surface in a fit of anger, the emotion behind the altercation daunting, but what stemmed from that pain, what had blossomed in its wake left me shaking with anticipation. I couldn't wait to see Bella embrace this strength, become this tenacious person that I knew was buried deep within her deceivingly small frame, a startling spirit that I had seen her shield herself from time and time again. As I sat with her on the floor of her father's closet, bravely ripping through the remnants of his life, I caught a glimpse of an older Bella, mature and dignified, aware, awake, alive with passion and vitality, a woman majestic in her presence. A woman who has chosen to walk with me, and my entire being swelled with pride at what I saw in Bella that day, a brave being learning to love and to be loved in return.

…

**BPOV**

Bells.

That's what was neatly printed on the tab of my file. Bells. When I was younger my father hadn't really called me anything but Isabella. There were no silly nicknames, no informal titles of endearment, he would even cringe when my mom called me Bella, so I was a bit shocked to see a myriad of documents pertaining to me filed under Bells: school pictures, my young face hidden beneath a mountain of dark hair, my birth announcement, the tattered paper yellowed and tinged, watercolor paintings I must have done, dark clouds hiding a crude rainbow, big rain drops of blue covering elaborately colored flowers and butterflies typical of a ten year old, my greeting etched on the back, To- Dad, Love- Isabella. The entire file was fat with nostalgia.

And then there were the letters.

_Dear Isabella,_

_Hi. It's me, Dad. __I'm just writing to see how you are doing at your new school. Do you like Arizona? It's probably warm there. It must be nice to see the sun everyday. I bet you'll even get to swim in a swimming pool this summer._

_I really miss you. I know you're probably scared and maybe sad, but you can come stay with me whenever you want. Your bedroom is always ready. Be a good girl and listen to your mom. _

_I love you._

_Daddy_

They had all been returned unopened. He wrote me letters and she had returned them all. Sickness invaded my body and my stomach churned in disgust as I thought of my dad here, all alone, waiting for a reply that would never come, the ideations he must have developed out of ignorance, just as I had, both of us drawing our ill-informed conclusions and opting for self destruction because of it. He had been smoking still, the fresh tobacco hidden in his drawer. He pushed his body to extremes, eating whatever the fuck he wanted, knowing what it would do to him, knowing what it would do to me. It wasn't enough, all the shit Edward and I had done to help him; I wasn't enough, his self-indulgent behavior superseding any love or care or concern my father had ever felt for me. He loved wallowing in his pity party more, steak and smokes and sneaking around behind my fucking back. It was so infuriating and so fucking familiar.

Fucking Renee. Fucking goddamned Renee. I shouldn't have been surprised. She was never a contender for mother of the year, but shit, this was just violating. That was the only word I could think of. She had defiled any bond between us, any chance of redemption contaminated by her breech, and any speck of trust I had ever placed in her was at that moment revoked. I continued reading the letters, piling the paper around me as I ripped through the envelopes, taking in every word, every eraser mark, every wrinkle and crease of the paper.

Mostly he had wanted to know how I was doing. The letters were filled with commonplace questions about my general well-being. He wanted to know the trivial things, asking about school, books, music, offering little bits of information about his life without us in return. He wrote about the Clearwaters and Billy, bragging about a particularly plentiful fishing trip or discussing the outcome of some random sporting event. These little crumbs made me smile, and I followed them, hoping to find my father at the end.

Edward had been with me all evening, sitting on the floor of the closet, reading through the letters as I handed them to him. He made me meals that I couldn't find the time to eat and made connections when I failed to. I was really grateful to have another mind available to access, picking his brain for perspective when I came to a particularly confusing or enlightening bit of information. He helped me draw conclusions about what was happening here while I had been in Phoenix, keeping the facts organized in his highly analytical brain. But he had gone to bed at about eleven o'clock, kissing me on the forehead and retiring to my bedroom. There was no way I was going to be able to sleep now, not after finding these letters, not with the possibility of finding more leering at me.

The letters became more of a journal as he realized he wouldn't be getting a response. He apologized for ruining my life, he asked for forgiveness, he wanted to know what I looked like, if I remembered any Joni Mitchell songs, if I remembered him. Every letter ended the same: be a good girl, listen to your mom. He never once spoke ill of her or blamed her for anything, finding fault only within himself.

And then the letters just stopped. He wrote to me for months and then just stopped. There was no indication that it would be the last, no final goodbye, no explanation or warning. They just stopped. At first, I thought there must be more, maybe I missed a stack or something, but I had torn that fucking closet apart and I didn't find any more bundles, the last letter simply signed, _I love you, Daddy_.

Maybe he got sick of sending letters that always came back, maybe he found something else to spend his time on or became too busy with work, but for some reason he stopped writing. For some reason, he had lost hope in the communication. I couldn't blame him, of course. I probably would have given up after the first few letters were returned. It had to have been completely devastating, a shiv every time he received a defiled envelope, his care and concern marked up and stamped all to hell. He had been denied access to his only child, the rejection executed by his wife, none the less. Well, ex-wife anyway. _"What are you going to do now? You've got no one to give your love too…"_

He could have come to see me. We had occupied three different motels in the beginning before settling in one of the shittiest apartments I had ever seen. Eventually, Renee was able to get a job teaching and she bought a small house close to the college, but he had sent a letter to each of the addresses. He knew where I was, he could have knocked on my door and demanded, he could have gotten a lawyer and put Renee through all kinds of hell, but he didn't. It all came back to her. Renee. She was the one who had chosen to leave, but for what reason? What could possibly have happened after ten years of marriage to cause her to act so maliciously? And how could he just let her get away with it? A handful of possibilities skated through my mind, each of them fitting for a sleazy daytime talk show, but I just couldn't think of one that made sense.

I kept searching the file cabinet. The only real source of information I had found so far had been concealed in the metal box. Tiny pieces of the past began to present themselves, things I didn't even realize had been missing from my awareness: a copy of their marriage certificate, the deed to the house, his parents' death certificates. I had never known them, my grandparents, and I smoothed over the type as I noticed that I shared my middle name with Charlie's mother, Marie, and instantly a swelling of pride bloomed within me. They had died before I was born, their certificates claiming the deaths at one year apart. I did the math in my head; Charlie had been eighteen when his father died of lung cancer. At nineteen, his mother passed away from natural causes, and the romantic in me couldn't help but think the cause was grief, broken heart syndrome or something, perhaps binary stars expiring at the same time, entwined and fused for the rest of eternity. I found myself pondering my own mortality and the prospect of this planet without Edward, without my elemental match. I pushed away the conclusions I found myself developing, my mind torturously lingering in dark, dark places.

I rummaged through newspaper clippings detailing Charlie's professional career, intently reading the numerous articles: Charlie being awarded some medal, Charlie being announced as Chief, Charlie dining with dignitaries from the Seattle area. My mother had been right about one thing, they had worshipped him, the whole town. I must have looked through about ten articles and they all said the same thing, that Charlie was a hero, that he had been an illustrious member of Forks' society and a fine upstanding human being.

Maybe they did just grow apart, or whatever the fuck excuse Renee had given me. Maybe my search was all in vain, a desperate attempt to soothe my weary soul. Maybe I should just give it up, be appeased with the fact that he had tried to contact me at all.

And then I saw _her_ file.

Diner. Neatly printed at the top of a thick manila folder was the word 'Diner'. I would have passed it up, saved it for later, but the role the diner had played in my father's life had been so evident that as soon as I saw it I was intrigued, speculating what I would find inside.

I never once thought I would find this.

Renee Swan.

It was printed across the insurance statement, the bill dated the first of April, about a month and a half after we had left Forks.

The date of the procedure was listed just days after we had arrived in Phoenix: termination of pregnancy by surgical abortion. Apparently, this procedure was only partially covered by Renee's medical insurance and apparently, they sent a copy of the statement to the policy holder: Charlie.

Renee had been…pregnant? Slowly everything started to blend together like puzzle pieces in my head, shit linking up, fitting together as the picture became more coherent.

I didn't remember her going to the hospital at all, and the only thing I could figure was that she had the procedure done while I had been at school. She had been pretty messed up for the first couple of weeks we were in Phoenix, inconsolable and vacant. She had spent most of her time curled up on the bed of the motel we were staying at. I had thought it was because my dad had left us and she was going through a depression thing, but now I was seeing a different reason for her discomfort, something that I could have never deciphered at ten years old. She only left the bed to take me to school, often picking me up in her pajamas, whiskey on her breath and a cigarette between her fingers. She didn't even get a job until the money she had brought with her started to run out.

But why would she have had to leave? If she hadn't wanted a baby she could have had the pregnancy terminated here. Unless she didn't want anyone to know about it. That's the thing about a small town, everyone knows everyone else's business. The only variable I could think of was that she was trying to hide her pregnancy from Charlie.

I thumbed through the thick file and scanned the documents. I ran my fingers over their marriage certificate, and then their divorce papers, reading through the pages. There was a lot of legal jargon and most of it not making any sense to me, but I did notice that Charlie had relinquished all custodial rights during the separation. I frowned at this information, my heart plummeting as I thought of what that actually meant. How could he just give me up? And before they were even divorced? Maybe Charlie did know she was leaving? It was all so fucking confusing not knowing the truth, and now I would never be able to know what the fuck really happened. Shit was slowly starting to present itself, but fuck, I wished like hell I could just talk to Charlie about it, that I would have had the courage to ask him before - before now. Instead, I had been so wrapped up in how he had wronged me, how I had felt so abandoned, that I never even gave him the chance to explain. I should have just asked him!

Once again, the bile rose in my throat, pain seeping into my soul and echoing in the hollow space, the regret deafening as I struggled to control my breathing. _Breathe, Bella. Fucking breathe… _My stomach growled a low rumble in my belly and I found an ally in the emptiness, relishing in the physical discomfort as the basic need trumped the yearnings of my emotions. This pain was manageable, almost a relief in comparison to the agony tearing me apart from within my chest. I took a couple of deep breaths as I wiped the salty trail from my cheeks and forced myself to focus on the task at hand.

I continued to dissect the file, finding less significant pieces of my parents' life together stuffed into big manila envelopes, cards she had given him, pictures, school transcripts, and then, a plane ticket confirmation.

For Phoenix!

My heart pounded and anticipation clotted in my veins, my blurred eyes struggling to make sense of the receipt. The ticket was in Charlie's name and was dated May sixteenth. Charlie _had_ come to Phoenix, or at least he had bought a ticket. He hadn't planned on staying, the ticket was for one round trip to Phoenix returning the next day. I set that aside with the pile of letters, insurance statements, and divorce papers, frustrated in the fact that instead of becoming clearer things we getting more and more confusing. Maybe I just wasn't looking at the information the right way, like those pictures that change depending on your perspective. I had been thinking about this mostly from Renee's point of view, trying to figure out why she had left. But these weren't Renee's files. They were Charlie's. I needed to think like Charlie.

I tabulated what I knew, trying to focus on my father, and carefully created a timeline to reconstruct the sequence of events: he had graduated high school, planned on moving to California for school, his parents died, he blew off school, married my mom and joined the Police Academy. Three years later I was born, ruining my mother's life and subsequently the lives of those around me. Then, after ten years of marriage, she filed for divorce, got pregnant, skipped town, and terminated her pregnancy. Charlie wrote me letters and bought a ticket to Phoenix, yet whether or not he visited still remains unknown.

Stifling a yawn, I stretched my arms over my head, my heavy eyelids becoming more and more difficult to control, every blink reminding me of the struggle. My head was starting swim, exhaustion limiting my cognition, and I thought about putting my quest on pause until I was more coherent. I stood up, my limbs stiff and aching from my prostrated position, the blood making its way back through my extremities as I walked around the small room.

I picked up his pipe from the nightstand and again filled it with tobacco from the wooden box. Ghosting a flame over the dried leaf and placing the stem between my lips, I inhaled deeply, letting the sweet flavor fill my mouth, a cool tingle on my tongue before exhaling. The aroma soothed me, filled me with calm and peace as I extracted sweet memories of my father, the familiar ache burning in my chest. I let the tobacco burn out, smoking just enough to fill the room with his smell, allowing his essence to linger around me. I didn't care for it much, the actual smoking, but I couldn't let go of that scent, not yet. I wallowed in it, pretending I was ten and we were on the porch, a beer in his hand and a smile on his lips, his large hands cradling the carefully crafted pipe. It was almost enough to transcend the ever present emotional purgatory I was sloshing around in. _"Can't numb you out, can't drum you out of my mind…"_

Almost.

I inhaled, feeling the breath fill my body, and took some comfort in the invading oxygen. I opened his drawer looking for a clean coveted flannel. I pulled back the cotton and the denim and my fingers grazed against a thick cardboard parcel in the bottom of the drawer. I pulled out the portfolio, my hands numb as I pulled the elastic straps back to open the casing.

Inside I found a collection of letters, my mother's handwriting looped along the page. My breathing accelerated as an eager panic jolted through me and caused my legs to give out. I slid to the floor, my back knocking against the dresser as it lightly shook against the wall. This had to be it, the answers, the truth, the reason for it all, the obscure concealment placing its importance far above anything I had found in the filing cabinet.

I pulled the first of the letters from the pile, my eyes focusing on the delicate penmanship as I began to make sense of the scrawl.

_Dear Charlie,_

_I'm sorry. I know I said I would try and I have been. I swear to God I have been. But I just can't live with you anymore. I can't live here, constantly alone, constantly waiting for you to get home. I'm wasting away, my life speeding past me while I'm stuck in this house, this goddamn fucking house and I can't stand it. I don't know who I am anymore and what I do know, I don't like. I never wanted this, to be a wife, to be a mother and I thought our love was enough. I truly believed that, that all we needed was our love and everything would be fine, that we would be fine. _

_I couldn't have been more wrong. _

_I'm sorry Charlie. I loved you, but I can't be this anymore, whatever it is that I have become. I'm suffocating here. Please don't try to find us, it will be better this way, a clean break. It will be easier for us to heal, for Bella to heal, if she isn't constantly reminded of you. I know you will do what's best for her and leave her be because you love her and want her to be happy._

_Renee_

I sat still a moment, my mother's words sinking in and permeating my awareness before I moved on to the next letter. I devoured them all and looked for details, and Renee provided them, rationalizing her midnight flee and chalking it up to neglect. From what I could gather she had served him with divorce papers long before she fled, but for some reason there had been a reconciliation, something happening around Christmas time. During the initial petition for divorce Renee had asked for full custody of me and Charlie had given it to her. Apparently, he thought she would change her mind, which she did, briefly.

She didn't disclose it but these letters must have been written before Charlie found out about the pregnancy because in April she wrote this:

_April 13, 1998_

_Dear Charlie,_

_I know you're confused and I know what I did was wrong and horrific but I just couldn't stand the thought of another baby. Shitty diapers and sleepless nights, giving up my body to play host to another human being that I would have to take care of for the next eighteen years, I just couldn't do it and I especially couldn't do it alone. And that's exactly what I would be, alone, your dedication to your job outweighing you dedication to this family._

_Lets be honest, you didn't really want a baby either. You have it too good, and a baby would have just complicated matters. I know it was wrong of me to keep it from you, and for that I apologize, but I regret nothing else, the termination of the pregnancy was best for all of us I think._

_Charlie, my mind was made up to leave long before I discovered I was pregnant. I was going to leave, no matter what. The pregnancy only hastened the transition. I'm doing you a favor, trust me. I'm not even the kind of wife that you want. You deserve to be with someone who can give you everything, and I can't._

_Please, DO NOT come here. I know you threatened in you last letter that you had bought a plane ticket, but please don't come. It won't change anything and it would really disturb Bella to see you. She's made so much progress and is really happy. You don't want to mess that up, do you?_

_I'm so very sorry,_

_Renee_

The way my mother used Charlie's love to keep him away from me made me literally feel sick. I didn't know how one woman could project such hatred, such deceit. It was the epitome of disgusting and I wanted so badly to take these letters and wave them in front of her face, gloat the knowledge she had tried so hard to keep from me.

I continued reading, adding the details to the already complex scenario presenting itself. Renee discussed Phoenix and how it was a new start for her, how she didn't want anything from him, no money or help of any kind. She handed over all rights to any of their possessions, even the house. Her only request to him was to be left alone.

It was so fucking selfish, each letter more disgraceful than the last, igniting a rage in me that slowly began to simmer in my blood. It was all lies, all fucking lies. She had no fucking clue what I had been thinking or what had been going on with me because she had never bothered to ask. I read every letter in the bundle, my eyesight blurring as exhaustion settled over me, my body beginning to shut down as it neared the early hours of the morning.

I heard a Blue Jay garble outside Charlie's window, highly atypical for this time of year but I found comfort in its soft melody, the world outside just beginning to come alive as I read the last of Renee's letters dated June, signifying the end of his letters to me as well. I quickly deemed it no coincidence.

_June 3, 1998_

_Charlie,_

_Please, if you love us at all, if you ever loved me, you will never come back here again. Bella doesn't want to see you, she's too upset. Please just sign the papers and let us move on with our lives. _

_Please, just give me this one last thing. And if you can't bring yourself to do it for me, do it for Bella. She doesn't need to be put through anything else, custody hearings or meetings with lawyers. That's not what you want for your little girl, is it? That's not how you want her to remember you._

_Please Charlie. It's over. It's time to move on._

_Renee_

Fucking lying bitch, how could she? She used me, flat out used me to get what she wanted, to run away from her problems. I was so fucking floored by the realization of what she had done and the implications of it all as I began to drift into unconsciousness. My mind was a mess and her betrayal seethed in my pores as I struggled to hold onto coherency.

Renee had destroyed him, completely used him up and then decimated any hope he had left. She couldn't get out of her own damn head, her needs taking greater priority, and instead of dealing with it like a fucking adult, she had lied and she had cheated and she had stolen.

Renee had lied about her pregnancy and negated Charlie's involvement in the decision. She cheated him out of being a father when she skipped town and took me with her, leaving him alone. And she stole his life away, the thievery far more excruciating than his perceived indifference or his dedication to his work could ever have been. There was no comparison between the two.

My mother was the most despicable human being I had ever met.

I wanted revenge, redemption. I wanted to travel back in time and refuse to leave with her, preserving my young, innocent self, not yet the bitter shell of a human being I was to become. Because that's what I was, damaged goods, completely fucked up and defiled beyond repair.

I fell asleep that night on the floor next to the dresser, surrounded by papers and the clothes I'd haphazardly let slip to the floor in my search for flannel, Renee's deceit clutched between my fingers, her betrayal fresh in my mind as I calculated a path for vindication.

…

I awoke to a loud rapping on wood, the sound invading my dreamless sleep and yanking me from the comforts of slumber. I was incredibly comfortable, too warm and entirely too rested to have slept on the hard wood floor of Charlie's room. Sitting up, I slowly opened my eyes, my bedroom coming into focus around me, my purple comforter tucked around my legs. I heard some commotion downstairs, Edward's voice a low murmur followed by a fast, emotional tone, the tenor higher in pitch and most definitely female. I quickly marched down the stairs to find Rosalie sitting on the couch, Edward on the chair next to her with his head in his hands, and I immediately feared the worst possible news, knowing that I couldn't handle any more tragedy right now.

Instead, Rose looked up at me, tears streaming down her perfect, beautiful face, her long blond hair pulled back into a tight braid.

"They know, Bella. Everyone knows," she said as Edward's eye shot up to meet mine, the green slits narrowed in speculation. I was concerned at his reaction but I knew he could wait. Right now, Rose was dealing with a huge issue and that is where I focused my concern.

"How? What happened?" I asked, taking a seat beside her on the couch, Edward's eyes following me as I moved across the room and took Rosalie's hand in mine as she relayed the details.

"I had been really torn up about what happened, with your dad, especially because I know you didn't really know him that well and it kinda got me thinking about my relationship with my own parents. I don't know anything about them, you know. Not one fucking thing. And it made me, I don't know, kinda sad." She took a deep breath, the admittance difficult. I nodded, accepting her explanation and letting her know that I could most efficiently commiserate. She continued, her free hand settling on the tiny bump now exposing itself. _"Weary of lies you are sending home…"_

"I told them that I missed them, asked them about things that they liked and talking about the stupidest fucking shit, and it felt good, you know, like it should feel when speaking with your parents. It felt so natural that I decided I was going to tell them. I was just going to bite the fucking bullet and tell them the truth. So I did." Rosalie was quiet as I awaited the rest of the recount. But Rose didn't speak, so I decided to press the issue.

"And?" I asked, a little perplexed I even needed to ask.

"It's over Bella. All of it. They wanted me to get rid of it, they didn't even care how, they just wanted it gone. When I refused they said I was dead to them, that they had no children anymore. They disowned me, said I was a disgrace and to not come back to see them. They completely cut me off. No more apartment, no more school, I'm just fucking waiting for a tow truck to come and haul away my car, because it's going to happen, Bella. I have nothing. Nothing!" Rosalie erupted into tears again, her desperation thick in her quiet voice.

"What did Emmett say about this? And Carlisle and Esme?" I asked. She wasn't alone, I wanted to stress this to her without seeming like a caustic bitch, so I led her to the information, instead of dictating it. Edward shifted in his seat at the mention of his family and I could see his eagerness to learn the outcome of the confession as well.

"Emmett wants to quit school and get a job so we could get our own apartment and shit, but I can't let him do that. I refuse to let him give up school. And Carlisle and Esme…well, they weren't as bad as my parents, that's for sure. They were disappointed, I could tell. But Esme hugged me and told me she loved me before I left." Rosalie used her sleeve to wipe her nose and eyes, the action so uncharacteristic that it caught me off guard and I stared at her sleeve. "What the fuck, Bella? Haven't you ever seen a runny nose before? Shit!"

I smiled at this, glad to see at least a glimpse of the Rose I knew hidden beneath the grief and distress. Edward ran his hands through his hair and leaned back in his chair, absorbing the information. I had been looking forward to sharing with him my newly acquired information about Renee, but that would have to wait because, at that moment, Rosalie sobbed again, her hand clutching mine as she brought the other to smear the tears from her cheeks.

"I have nowhere to go, Bella," Rosalie muttered, as fresh tears rolled across where her hand had previously wiped. "I'm not allowed to step foot inside my parents' home and Carlisle and Esme are already playing safehouse to too many teenagers." Edward flashed her a menacing look at this comment and she stared right back at him and replied. "Well, it's fucking true. They don't need another houseguest."

"You can live here," I said quickly, the decision quick and logical. It made sense. Here I was with an empty house and she needed a home. "You can have Charlie's room. I've been going through his stuff anyway. I'll pack it up and we can move you in as soon as you'd like."

Edward stared at the coffee table in front of us, his lack of attention concerning, but then he had just learned some pretty substantial news concerning his family. Rosalie became very quiet, sharply turning her head to face me as she squeezed my hand in hers.

"What?" Rosalie asked, her red rimmed violet eyes overflowing with shock. "I…that's not why I came here. I just…I…"

"I know," I said cutting her off. "I need a roommate anyway. I've never lived alone, and I'm a little scared. You know, to do this on my own." Rose nodded, her eyes understanding and completely aware that I was completely full of shit. I knew she would have difficulty accepting help, she'd always had everything at her disposal, and now, now she was at the mercy of others. Shit, if Charlie hadn't left me with so much cash, I could easily see myself in the same position. And, yeah, I was a little scared to live on my own, but it's not like I was really on my own, Edward had stayed with me every night and I didn't plan on that changing anytime soon.

"Thank you, Bella. I'd really like that, to live here," Rosalie said quietly, her voice muffled as tears streamed silently down her cheeks.

"Right. Then it's set. I'll finish cleaning up Char…the room," I said, trying to remain optimistic. I felt awful for the disappointment that Rosalie must be feeling and I was anxious to find out what Edward was thinking, his quiet demeanor a bit unsettling. But most of all, I was thankful for the distraction, someone else to focus on instead of sulking in my own self pity. I welcomed it, the distraction now blowing her nose into the sleeve of her sweater, her belly swelling from beneath the cable knit.

I knew it wouldn't be easy, but it was something that I could offer, a tiny slice of karma available for the taking, and you never turn down an offering from karma.

…

Who wants an Edward for Christmas?

Joni Songs Referenced:

_Just Like This Train_

_Flight Tonight_

_Little Green_

_Songs to Aging Children Come_

And one little obscure reference to my most favorite Third Eye Blind song ever, Motorcycle Drive-By. Did anyone catch it??? You get extra big kisses if you did…


	25. When I Think of Rose, My Heart Trembles

**Darlings,**

Long time no talk my sweets! Happy New Year to you all and I hope you were safe and maybe a little naughty. Okay, I hope you all got plowed and had the time of your life!

I did an interview with **Tanya** from **So You Think You Can Write**. Check out the linkage on my profile if you're interested.

I have to give a special hello to a new reader, **1smrtcooki**, who is indeed one smart cookie. Your messages are priceless, my dear. Also, **Tallman**, the self-proclaimed oddity of this fandom, I'm so glad you read and I applaud you my friend.

Darling beta** n7of9, **who would have thought they'd actually let me carry a chocolate cake on an airplane…red velvet with cream cheese frosting for next time! Big thanks to you, my sweet soul sister…

Disclaimer: I don't own it.

**CH 25 **_**"When I Think of Rose, My Heart Begins to Tremble"**_

**EPOV**

I felt like I was in the fucking Twilight Zone. Bella had been submerged in her father's letters for the last twenty-four hours and had even fallen asleep on a heap of Charlie's clothes. I was beginning to worry about her. She hadn't slept well in days nor had she been eating; she spent all her time smoking Charlie's pipe and reading his old newspaper clippings, completely losing track of time while lost in her father's past life. I had carried her to bed early this morning after I had woken up alone, grasping for her body and finding nothing once again. I knew she needed to do this, to grieve and deal with her loss, and I wanted to be there for her as she walked this path, but I didn't want her to abuse her body in the process.

Then Rosalie showed up this morning, frantically pounding on the door and fucking hysterical. She proceeded to tell me that she's pregnant and that she needs to talk to Bella. What the hell? Since when did Bella become the support hotline for emotionally wrecked bitchy pregnant chicks? And since when was Rosalie fucking pregnant? My eyes immediately darted to her belly where I noticed a small bump protruding from beneath her sweater. Shit! How had I not noticed that before? I was stunned, unable to form coherent sentences, and not entirely sure what to say to her. "Congratulations" didn't really seem appropriate given the fact that she was bawling her fucking eyes out, so I told her that Bella was asleep and even though it was well past noon there was no way in hell I was going to wake her up. I let Rosalie cry while trying not to say anything that would offend her, but I was still a little apprehensive because, well, I'd only seen Rosalie cry one other time and she fucking socked me in the jaw because of it. Two years ago we had gone hiking and I had accidentally elbowed her in the boob. It must have hurt pretty badly because she started crying and then, out of nowhere, she punched me square in the jaw. That shit fucking hurt too.

My apprehension must have been sneaking into my features because Rosalie rolled her eyes at me and used her sleeve to wipe her face. "Shit, Edward, I'm not going to hit you. Not today, anyway."

"Where's Emmett?" I asked. The two of them were supposed to be leaving for Pullman this morning. Holy fuck, Emmett was going to be a dad! The realization was crippling and left my thoughts a jumbled pile of uselessness.

"He's at home. I went by myself to visit my parents. When I pulled up at the Cullens' all hysterical and shit, Esme got really concerned so Emmett told her and, of course, Jasper and Alice overheard. Esme called Carlisle and he came home from the hospital. They were pretty upset, Carlisle especially. I wanted to give them some time alone but I have nowhere else to go." Her lips trembled, tears streaming down her cheeks again. "My parents hate me and now Esme and Carlisle probably do too. Shit, I have totally fucked everything up."

I smoothed my fingers through my hair - I was fucking floored at hearing all this. The stairs creaked and I heard Bella moving swiftly down the steps, her features stricken as she glanced from my face to Rosalie's.

"They know, Bella. Everyone knows now," Rosalie said, her cheeks streamed with tears again. _They _know_. _Did Bella already know about this? I looked up at her to appraise her reaction; there was no shock, no speechlessness. Bella moved to sit by Rosalie and held her hand, calm as all fuck. Yes, I'd say Bella was well aware of said pregnancy. Well, fuck me!

I was starting to think Bella had become the family confidante or some shit. She had known about Alice and Jasper before anyone else, and now Emmett and Rosalie's little surprise bundle of joy. I was tempted to ask her if Carlisle and Esme were hiding anything I should know about.

Anyone could have guessed why Rosalie would want to keep her pregnancy a secret, her parents are complete assholes. They totally turned their backs on Jasper and all he did was date a girl they didn't like. I couldn't imagine what they had done to their prodigious Rosalie.

Rosalie proceeded to explain how she had felt moved to bond with her parents after Charlie's funeral, to try to reclaim some of the damaged relationship. She had gone over there just to talk to them, to feel that unity of family, and in the end they had disowned her. I had never cared for Rosalie but, shit, that was fucking harsh.

"What did Emmett say about this? And Carlisle and Esme?" Bella asked, and I found myself leaning into the conversation, wondering how my cousin, who was only a year older than me, was going to support a family.

"Emmett wants to quit school and get a job so we could get our own apartment, but I can't let him do that. I refuse to let him give up school. And Carlisle and Esme…well, they weren't as bad as my parents, that's for sure. They were disappointed, I could tell. But Esme hugged me and told me she loved me before I left," Rosalie explained, her tears subsiding as she spoke of my family.

I knew Carlisle and Esme would not have been disappointed by the pregnancy but rather the restriction of opportunity this would mean for Emmett and Rosalie. They wanted everything for Emmett, of course; he was their only son and he had been a pretty good kid. He was a hard worker, got good grades, he didn't get into trouble, and he had a plan. Emmett really did have every opportunity at his fingertips, but now there would be something more important than himself to focus on. I was sure Esme and Carlisle would get over it and eventually would be able to accept this and move on, and they would love this baby no matter what because they love their son and they accept him wholly, including all his misjudgments, shortcomings and pitfalls. Truthfully, if anyone here were fit to be a parent, it was Emmett. He'd had the best role models imaginable, reminding me of yet another staggering disparity between my cousin and myself.

A new wave of distress washed over Rosalie as she heaved a fresh sob and tears spilled once again from behind her eyelids.

"I have nowhere to go, Bella." Rosalie kept wiping at the tears but they just kept rolling down her cheeks. "I'm not allowed to step foot inside my parents' home and Carlisle and Esme are already playing safehouse to too many teenagers." I looked at her sharply, slightly offended at her statement seeing as how I was one of the said teenagers.

"Well, it's fucking true. They don't need another houseguest," she said. I knew this wasn't entirely true, but I wasn't about to argue with her. Apart from the fact that Carlisle and Esme would never turn Rosalie away, I hadn't actually slept there myself in over a week. I knew my aunt and uncle were letting it slide because they didn't want Bella to be alone, but I didn't know how long that would last. Eventually, they would probably expect me to go home, but I figured as long as they weren't saying anything about it, I wouldn't either.

"You could live here," Bella said surprisingly. She barely knew Rosalie and they had spent the majority of their time together trading passive aggressive insults, yet here she was offering her room and board. Like I said, fucking Twilight Zone.

"You can have Charlie's room. I've been going through his stuff anyway. I'll pack it up and we can move you in as soon as you'd like," Bella continued.

"What? I…that's not why I came here. I just…I…" Rosalie stuttered. The thought of Rosalie Hale needing anything was mind-boggling. She was probably the proudest person I'd ever met and I knew this was killing her.

"I know," Bella interrupted. "I need a roommate anyway. I've never lived alone, and I'm a little scared. You know, to do this on my own." I glanced up at Bella in admiration. I knew what she was doing, letting Rose feel needed instead of needy. Bella would be fine on her own, she had practically been living alone for the majority of her life. She was doing this purely for Rosalie's benefit, and it was purely out of the goodness of her heart.

"Thank you, Bella. I'd really like that, to live here," Rosalie said quietly.

"Right. Then it's set. I'll finish cleaning up Char…the room," Bella said as Rosalie nodded, wiping her nose on her sleeve again

Bella glance up at me with questioning eyes and I gave her a small smile, which she returned. Rosalie's eyes darted between us before she gave an exasperated sigh, rolled her eyes, and moved to the stairs.

"I gotta pee, this kid is using my bladder as a trampoline," she muttered as she walked up the stairs to use the restroom. As I watched her leave the room I was clouded in astonishment. Rosalie was going to be a mother. She was going to have a child, my cousin's child no less, the thought a tad daunting when I considered the task ahead of them. I knew it was going to be hard and shit, but they would be good parents. Even though Emmett was a big kid himself, he could handle this, so if he was okay with it, then so was I. And I wasn't worried about Rosalie. She could handle anything.

Bella wrapped the afghan around herself and moved to sit on my lap in the large chair, snuggling into my chest and exhaling a sigh of relief. I kissed the top of her head, her hair now wrapped up in a sloppy bun. I inhaled her sweet scent as the soft stray strands tickled my face.

"Are you okay? You've been really quiet," Bella asked. "Are you in shock? I mean, I was completely stunned."

"You knew," I stated, and she nodded her head, craning her head to meet my eyes. She smiled to herself with hidden humor and I gave her an inquisitive glance wondering what the joke was. "What?" I asked.

"Oh, it's just that I kinda caught her puking, that's how I found out. I was just smiling at the irony. Usually I'm the one getting caught hugging the porcelain," she shrugged. Turning to face me and reaching to press her lips to mine, she added "I'm just glad everyone knows now. It was seriously killing me that I couldn't tell you, but I promised Rosalie I wouldn't say anything. I didn't even tell Alice." Bella yawned, her hands rubbing at her eyes as she finished the statement.

"How late were you up last night?" I asked.

Her eyes surveyed mine as she answered, "Pretty late, but it was so worth it. My dad wrote letters to Renee too, and she responded. He kept all her letters."

"What did they say?" I was just as curious as her to find out how Renee had kept Charlie away all those years. Charlie's absence from Bella's life didn't really ever make sense to me. Charlie was a stubborn guy, there's no way he would have let Bella go without a fight.

"You need to read them. It won't sound the same coming from me. You have to hear it straight from the stupid bitch's mouth," Bella responded harshly, and I frowned. I had hoped the letters would appease some of the stress Bella was feeling but her anger towards her mother only seemed to intensify with each revelation. Whatever was in those letters couldn't have been good.

Rose came clunking down the stairs then, her boots heavy on the complaining staircase. Her stomach was sticking out profusely now, the small bump starring me right in the face. I shook my head in bewilderment, amazed that she had been able to hide that thing for so long. Actually, I had no fucking idea how long she'd been hiding it.

"So, how long until it's done?" I asked, pointing to her stomach. I hadn't meant it to be offensive, yet after I heard myself I realized I had just called her baby an _it_. I braced for the worst, knowing the wrath of Rosalie could only have gotten worse with the influx of hormones.

But she just shrugged her shoulders, her hands smoothing her hair as she answered. "The online due date calculator said the beginning of May. I haven't actually seen a doctor yet. I didn't want my parents to find out from an insurance statement or some shit." Bella snorted at this and again, I looked at her inquisitively. She just shook her head and muttered something about Charlie's letters, and I figured she must still be thinking about Renee.

"I guess it doesn't matter anymore," Rosalie said bitterly, her hand swiping at her cheek again. "Bella, can I use your phone to call Emmett? My cell phone is um, no longer in service," she asked quietly.

"Of course, anything you need, just help yourself," Bella responded and shifted to lean her back against me. I was fucking itching to go upstairs and read those letters now, Bella's remark reigniting my curiosity, but she needed to eat something first.

"What do you want for breakfast?" I asked her, nuzzling my nose into the base of her jaw and letting my lips move across her skin. She turned her head to face me, her lips catching mine.

"You," she giggled, her lips pressing against mine more forcefully now. I smiled at her teasing, delighted to indulge, but more concerned with satisfying necessities first.

"Bella, seriously, you need to eat something. What can I make for you?" I asked again, shifting from under her so that I could get up from the chair, my mind replaying the scene from Charlie's funeral, the fear and panic that had surrounded me as Bella collapsed, and I struggled to keep the betrayal out of my face.

She sat reluctantly in the chair, dejected and pouting, the rejection plain on her face. "I'm not hungry," she scowled. Confusion overwhelmed my thoughts - was she pissed?

"What's wrong with you?" I asked, her irritation evident in every movement she made. Even her blinking was hostile.

"Nothing. I'm fine, everything is fine," she replied, her voice monotone and not so convincing.

"Is this one of those things where you're really not fine, and you're going to let me keep on asking you what's wrong for the next six hours and you keep saying you're fine, but you walk around here with a stick up your ass until finally you break down in a hysterical fit over something that could have easily been resolved to begin with?" I smirked at my response. I had meant it to be funny, meant for it to be a joke because Bella never really acted like that. I thought she would see the humor in it

She didn't.

"Do you even realize you're being a total ass?" Bella asked me. "I mean, I'm practically dry humping your leg here and all you can think about is what I've eaten today." Shit. I could see her frustration now and she's right, I am an ass. That didn't negate the fact that she hadn't eaten much since Charlie died. That didn't negate the fact that she had been neglecting herself, starving herself of food and sleep and care since that night. She was slipping back into her old self destructive behavior and she was completely oblivious to it.

Or she just didn't give a fuck.

I couldn't decide which one was worse.

She threw the afghan on the couch and pulled the stretchy band from her hair, allowing her locks to fall across her shoulders and down her back, her father's flannel still wrapped around her torso.

"I'm fine, I'm just not hungry. I'll eat when I'm hungry, okay?" Bella said, running her fingers through her hair.

"I know. I'm sorry. It's just how I fix things Bella, with…a meal, I guess. I'm not trying to be an asshole, I'm just worried." I paused, unable to stop the rest of my thoughts from spewing forth. My mind was telling me to shut the fuck up but somehow my ability to control my mouth utterly failed. "Can you just try to eat something today? I'll leave you alone if you just promise you'll try to eat something," I pleaded, hoping she'd take the compromise. This wasn't what I wanted to say, I wanted to trust her, believe her when she said she was fine, but the truth was that I didn't think she was fine.

Bella sighed, her arms folded across her chest, her small body shaking on the couch, but she didn't freak out so I continued with my pleading. I figured it didn't really matter what I said at this point as she was already pissed, so I might as well get it all out now.

"Come on, Bella. You can't even promise me you'll _try_? I'd have no way of even knowing if you were really trying and since you're so accomplished at hiding shit, I'd think it'd be easy to give me this promise, even if it's an empty one." Panic welled in my chest, her reluctance fueling my suspicion that her lack of consumption was intentional.

"It's not that Edward," Bella said, her voice etched with sadness and fatigue. "I just don't want to lie to you." Like a steel blade slicing through me, her words fucking cut. I closed my eyes, drowning in the fury slowly beginning to smolder within me.

Rosalie walked into the room and fell onto the couch, the springs groaning beneath her as she sank into the musty velvet. "Emmett's coming over. He can't stand being in that house with his parents right now. They just keep telling him they need some time to process the whole thing. God, it's tearing him up."

I just nodded and walked into the kitchen, anxious to get out of the room. Fuck! Why couldn't she just eat something? I tried to tell myself it had only been a week and that everything would be fine as soon as things settled down. This is the only way I could stave off my feelings of panic and anxiety that began to bubble every time I thought about what Bella had eaten this week, or rather what she hadn't eaten.

Rosalie and Emmett drove back to Pullman that night. Rosalie had to pack up all her shit to come back to Bella's, and Emmett had already missed a day of class. His semester had been paid for and Rosalie insisted that he continue to take classes, even though it meant they would be apart for most of the twelve week quarter. He reluctantly agreed, eased somewhat at the thought that Rosalie wouldn't be alone, and planned on making the five hour trek back to Forks every weekend. His next break wouldn't be until Spring Break in March and then he planned on taking the spring quarter off so he could be with Rose while they adjusted to life with their new baby.

The Hales had already canceled Rose's lease on the apartment and the payment they had made for her classes, so she was officially dropped from the registrar. They didn't confiscate her car like she had thought they would because, as it turns out, the BMW was paid for and in her name, a gift for her sixteenth birthday, and I bet the Hales were kicking themselves in the ass for that one. This stroke of good luck allowed Rosalie to be more proactive in her situation, and she went and did something I don't think she actually really ever planned on doing in her lifetime - she got a job.

Rosalie would be working at the call center at the hospital. And yes, Carlisle had gotten her the position, but Rosalie had gone to speak with my aunt and uncle after she had moved into Charlie's house. She apologized for disappointing them, told them her plan for the future and asked for help getting a job. I couldn't refute it, Rosalie was showing a lot of maturity throughout this whole situation and she had actually been almost pleasant to be around. Don't get me wrong, she had used my head as a pissing post a couple of times during the past month, screeching in the mornings when she wanted to use the bathroom or bitching about my clothes accidentally getting thrown into the washing machine and mixing with hers, but she hadn't once threatened death by dismemberment, a definite improvement in our relationship.

I had been staying at Bella's off and on since we had gone back to school. I didn't want to overstep Carlisle's generosity because he was being really cool about the situation. I mean, there wasn't anything he could technically do about it, I was eighteen, an adult and free to leave his guardianship if I desired. But I really did appreciate and respect my aunt and uncle and everything they had done for me and Alice, and I missed my sister sometimes. For these reasons I tried to spend a couple of nights a week with them. Sometimes Bella would tag along, sometimes she would stay home with Rosalie, and some days she would just hang out by herself, rereading her father's letters, smoking his pipe - on the porch now since Rosalie had sanctioned a ban on smoking in the house - and just drowning herself in her own suffering. On these days, anxiety grasped my pounding heart, reminiscent of those times when I forced myself to repress my ticking bomb. I would spend these days cooking, the comfort of the kitchen soothing the panic and occupying my mind so I wouldn't lock Bella in the house until she gorged herself on pasta and bread and whatever else I could find in the fridge. Esme's freezer looked like she was planning for an apocalyptic zombie takeover or something.

Bella had let me read the letters from Renee and we talked for a long time about what we thought had happened, piecing together the cryptic information to come up with a most likely scenario. I was surprised by half the shit I read, finding Renee's explanations and methods of thinking to be completely fucked. Truthfully, I was indifferent to Renee. She had accidentally gotten pregnant early in her life and for that I was eternally grateful, but other than that she was nothing to me. Charlie, on the other hand, was a good guy. He was a good friend to my family and had even saved my ass a couple of times during my destructive phase with a slap on the wrist and a blind eye when he could have made things really shitty for me. I was really grateful for this and it was entirely because of him that I managed to maintain a clean criminal record.

It turns out Renee had served Charlie with divorce papers a couple of months before she left. She asked him to turn over guardianship of Bella to her and he did, probably thinking Renee really wasn't going to leave. She filed for divorce and was looking into moving out of state when she found out she was pregnant. Desperate to end the pregnancy and afraid that Charlie would find out, she skipped town, taking Bella with her and leaving Charlie with a "Dear John" letter that pushed him toward self destruction. She didn't have much cash but she was still covered by Charlie's insurance, so she went and had an abortion, thinking they would send the insurance information to her new address. Of course, they hadn't. They sent it to the policy holder: Charlie. He freaked out, flew to Phoenix to try to get her to come back to Forks, threatened all kinds of legal shit, and demanded to see his daughter. Renee refused, told him to go, that Bella was happy and didn't want to see him. Renee begged him to leave them alone and Charlie complied - because he did love Bella and he would have done anything for her, even if it killed him to do so. He just wanted what was best for her and had believed Renee when she said that Bella didn't want to see him.

As expected, Bella was disgusted by her mother's behavior and showed her no mercy, her anger biting through every attempt I made to explore Renee's point of view. "No" she had said, "She doesn't deserve one speck of your time, not to mention your sympathy."

The first week back to school was fucking miserable. Bella spent a lot of time in the bathroom with Alice, ditching class to smoke instead, and I spent a lot of time sitting by myself in fucking useless lame-ass classes. I didn't think she was purging, I hadn't caught that peppermint smell on her breath, but I rarely saw her eating much either. At times she would appease me, or at least try, by pushing the food around her plate and taking small bites and washing it down with water, the whole time managing my gaze, making sure I recognized her attempt. This wasn't how I wanted things to be, I didn't want her to have to try to appease me, to make me happy. I wanted her to eat because she wanted to, because she saw the necessity in taking care of her already stressed body.

But, in the words of the highly exalted and prophetic Mick Jagger, you can't always get what you want - you get what you need. I was still trying to find out what part of Bella starving herself was needed. Maybe it wasn't about what I needed; maybe this was what Bella needed, to regress so she could move on, you know, two steps forward one step back, or whatever the fuck the saying is.

If this was all I would get, her half-assed attempts to appease me, I would take it. At least it was better than purging, at least this way she was making an attempt. I tried to remain positive, telling myself this was just a speed bump in her progress and that it was understandable, that maybe she needed extra encouragement or needed me to back off, and over the course of the month I tried both; I would have tried anything to return to the normalcy that defined our relationship.

The normalcy arrived in spurts, sometimes when we were just lounging around the living room, watching movies and shit, or when we were playing cards with Alice and Jasper. Fuck, I don't know, maybe I was overreacting, maybe I was the one with the problem because the normalcy was definitely there, natural and comfortable, the way things were supposed to be. And it was definitely there in the intimate aspects of our relationship - ever since the anger driven floor fuck, the connection between us was fucking electric. It was difficult now that Rose was living with Bella to try to find opportunities, but Bella was persistent by sneaking into the shower or waking me up in the middle of the night. At times like these it seemed everything was as it should be and I longed for the interactions, just happy that for a short moment in time everything was perfect and that for a while, Bella could forget about all the shit she was dealing with and just feel good.

I just wanted things to get back to normal. As soon as things got back to normal, Bella would be fine, right? Everything was going to be fine.

Right?

…

**BPOV**

I shifted in the uncomfortable orange plastic chair in the doctor's waiting room and pulled my legs up to tuck them underneath me, the rubber of my shoes squeaking against the glossed flat surface. I glanced at the clock on the wall and sighed, worry beginning to settle in the pit of my abdomen. We'd been here about forty-five minutes and Rosalie was still in the fucking doctor's office. Alice was shuffling her cards to my left, her hair almost a bob now with caramel highlights invading the darkness. She was wearing a pair of jeans, the bottoms tucked into her wet-weather boots, her small frame bundled and bound and wrapped in layer upon layer of cotton and wool, a heavy scarf around her neck and a white crocheted cap on top of her head. She looked like she'd been eaten by a Gap commercial, but I understood the layers and layers of fabric. It was fucking freezing outside today.

It was the beginning of February and Rosalie was just now having her first doctor's appointment. The hidden pregnancy had made it difficult for Rosalie to have a proper check-up but now that she was working at the call center, medical benefits allowed her to get prenatal care. I found it ironic that Rosalie had thought to wonder about the insurance statement but my mother had not. Renee was a good thirty years old when she had gotten that abortion. Don't you think at thirty you would know what the hell happens with the insurance documents? I had a theory that Renee had wanted Charlie to find out and that's why she had allowed the statement to be sent to him. It just seemed like something she would do, feel guilty about not telling him and then "accidentally" let him find out so she wouldn't have to man up and tell him. Then again, she could have just been desperate. Or stupid, she was pretty fucking stupid. Whatever, fuck it, I'd never know. I didn't have any plans for any mother daughter tea parties any time soon. I was so fucking done with her.

Alice was muttering something beside me, her face perplexed and intent as she flipped her cards, talking about pentacles and towers and shit, her musings bringing me back to reality. Ever since I'd found those letters I'd been trapped in my own head, reliving my parents' history over and over, theorizing, wondering, guessing. It was like I couldn't get enough. I kept thinking I could find something written between the lines, something that rationalized their behavior. I could see why they did the things they did, my mother and her selfish fleeing, my father and his self-loathing, but I just could _not _see why they couldn't have loved me enough to stop, to put aside their shit and realize they had a fucking kid watching them, learning from them.

Charlie had been on lots of drugs and medications: for his heart, high blood pressure, diabetes, depression, anxiety. The little foiled packets of pills were now carefully concealed in my tote. I just needed to know that they were available, just in case it got too bad, just in case the suffocating panic began to well in a public place, like school or somewhere where I couldn't run and fold in on myself. I didn't know how to deal with this and the more I thought about it, the more I saw how every coping mechanism I had stemmed from my parents' inability to deal with shit.

And now I didn't know how to change it. I didn't know if I wanted to change it. Maybe this was just what I was, a fucked up piece of shit with nothing to offer but pain and rejection and selfishness.

The only disparity I had found with this theory was Edward. For some reason he loved me and continued to love me, even when I was mean and hateful, even when I was selfish and bitchy, even when I took advantage of his love for me and used it to make myself feel better, he never wavered.

It fucking killed me what I was doing to him by making him worry and forcing confrontations about my nutrition and then berating him for it. I hated myself on these days, consumed with my failure as a person, as a lover, and as a friend. I was fucking toxic, and here I was exposing myself to everyone, tainting everything good I had found in this world. I was going to ruin everything and I still couldn't bring myself to stop. _"Do you see how you hurt me baby, so I hurt you too then we both get so blue."_

"I think it's a boy," Alice mumbled beside me as she flipped another card, a large sun radiating over a small child and a white horse in a field of sunflowers. I tried to focus on something else: her cards, the magazine on the table beside me, the growling in the pit of my stomach. She dug into her bag and pulled out a scrap of paper and a pen to scribble her notes onto.

Alice was a little upset Rosalie hadn't confided in her about the pregnancy. Instead, she had found out like everyone else, with tears and blubbering apologies. Rosalie desperately tried to make amends to not only Alice but her brother as well. Alice had gotten over the slight easily, realizing that the shit Rosalie was dealing with was more pressing than her need to be informed. And she was excited too, the prospect of the new life causing her to dive into preparations. She had been constantly reading her cards and scribbling in her notebook, looking for clues or warnings or whatever she called them, her devotion to the craft more reverent than ever. Jasper had taken an entire week to come to terms with the concept, even threatening to kick Emmett's ass, but then realized there was no way he would ever survive the altercation and, with a little persuasion from Alice, he eventually stopped by the house to see if Rosalie needed anything, bringing over a tiny pair of beaded moccasins as a peace offering, finally accepting his role as Uncle.

Living with Rosalie had been interesting, to say the least. I was surprised by how well she had adapted to living on her own. She was diligent about keeping her room clean and she kept dishes out of the sink despite working full time and being six months pregnant. She fixed the leaky faucet in the bathroom and put up shelves in Charlie's old room, the room she would bring her baby home to. She had asked me if she could redecorate the space and I told her to go nuts. With the new soft jade wall color, her large king sized bed covered in pillows, and white washed furniture, the room hardly looked the same, and I welcomed the change. It was easier to be in this room when it wasn't reeking of Charlie, the fresh paint having rolled over his scent, and that made it easier to be in the _house_ without Charlie. She was a considerate roommate and I didn't know if it was because she was just grateful or because she liked being on her own, but I was really glad I had asked her to live with me because, fuck, there were days her company was necessary.

Edward stayed over frequently, wrapping me in his comfort and allowing me to pull strength from his unrelenting support, his hands in my hair, his hips between my thighs, his skin flush with mine, it didn't matter how the comfort manifested itself, it was a reliable, gratifying distraction, but he couldn't always be with me. There were nights Edward spent at his own home, in his own bed, nights I would spend clutching my pillow, stifling my sobs, with visions of my father laid out on his bed and the way his skin had fallen around his bones, no longer supported by the tension of tissue, sickening images flooding through my brain as I longed for the silence of sleep. I would drown myself in Joni, the lyrics haunting as art became life, disturbingly accurate depictions of my emotions surrounded by an acoustic guitar and a low, soulful lament. _"Sometimes voices in the night will call me back again, back along the pathway of a troubled mind…"_

Eventually I would fall asleep from sheer exhaustion with the harmonies still ringing in my ears, and I'd wake up startled and unaware, not quite sure if Charlie was really gone or if it had all been some fuckery of my mind intent on torturing me. Reaching out for Edward and finding nothing, I would tiptoe to Charlie's room and peek inside to find Rosalie curled up on her large bed, her body encompassed in pillows. Defeated, I would venture downstairs to entwine myself in the old crocheted yarn and musty velvet smell of the couch. I could rarely go back to sleep after these incidents, the images too vivid to shake from my brain, and I would just lie there in the dark going over and over in my mind the letters Charlie had written me, the verbiage practically committed to memory at this point.

"Bella Swan?" The nurse behind the small window called my name and I looked at Alice, startled and confused. She just shrugged her shoulders, frantically gathering her cards and shoving them into her bag as she followed me and we both apprehensively approached the window.

"Yeah, I'm Bella," I mumbled to the woman in the window, her eyes glancing up at me over her dark rimmed glasses.

"Come on through, please," she said, motioning to the door. Alice opened the door and I walked through, a million scenarios running through my head as to why they would be leading me to a room. Was there a problem, something wrong with Rose, with the baby? The nurse knocked on the door and a familiar voice muffled a response before she opened the door and we walked into the small room. Rosalie was on the examination table, robed in hospital garb, her hands folded across her belly. She turned to look at us as we walked into the room, pure confusion in our features, I'm sure, but Rosalie just snorted, a loud burst of laughter filling the small space.

"Shit, Bella, you look like you're going to crap your pants," she chortled, and I sighed, irritated by my own stupidity. Of course everything was fine, why wouldn't it be? I rolled my eyes, mostly at myself, as Alice glided past me to stand by the edge of the table.

"What's the deal? I thought we weren't allowed in the room," Alice asked.

Rosalie shifted to sit up, pulling the blanket around her legs and letting her bare feet hang off the edge of the table. "She's going to do an ultrasound. We might get to find out what it is!" Excitement bubbled in her voice as she tucked the blanket around her. "She just went to get the machine thing."

"I'm calling it right now, it's a boy. I pulled the Sun earlier and that usually denotes a male," Alice claimed with assurance in her voice.

"Really? I kind of thought the presence of a penis usually denotes a male," I smirked.

"Fuck off, I'm right and you two are going to be eating shit when we see his little peepee on that screen," Alice remarked, and I couldn't help but laugh at her description.

"Both of you better stop talking about my possible son's dick. You're gonna jinx it or something," Rosalie said, smacking Alice on the arm.

"Jinx it? What, like it's going to change?" Alice laughed.

Rosalie nudged Alice with her foot which only made her laugh more. "Just shut the fuck up," Rosalie said.

The door opened and a large lumbering machine was wheeled in by the nurse, forging her way into the already crowded room. Once settled, she pulled Rosalie's robe away to expose her belly, leaving the blanket on her lap. To be honest, it shocked me to see her stomach like this, protruding and swollen, with faint silvery lines decorating the stretched skin. It seemed so intimate, like I was intruding on a very private moment, but Rosalie didn't seem to mind, her eyes set on the tiny black screen. I'd never been around a pregnant person and I'd never even seen a real pregnant stomach, the mound pulsing and changing with life behind the movement, a life fragile and weak and unable to survive without assistance yet already strong enough to persuade its mother to bend to its will.

"Just a little gel," the nurse murmured as she squirted the thick liquid onto Rosalie's abdomen and used this handle thing to smear the goop all over her belly. The nurse turned on the screen and loud static surrounded us, and as she glided the receiver over Rose's stomach, flashes of black and white and gray blurred across the screen.

Suddenly, we were engulfed in whirring and sloshing sounds as the technology swept across her belly. I watched the screen; I don't know what I was expecting, a fully formed kid in there waving at us or something, I don't know. This was completely foreign and strange to me and caused a disequilibrium that I found myself discontented with. I couldn't even put my finger on what was so bothersome about this. I mean, I hate hospitals because, well really, who doesn't? Any kind of medical procedure makes me squirm, and needles, fuck, I hate fucking needles. But that wasn't the issue I was having at this moment. How could Rosalie be so calm about this? Why wasn't she freaking out? She was growing another human being inside of her and in three months she was going to be its caregiver, the responsibility a life-long obligation. Life-long, forever, that child will be with her in some way for the rest of her life. That's a fucking long-ass commitment!

"There's the head and spine," the nurse said, pointing to the screen as she pressed the receiver to Rose's belly, the device sliding easily over her gelled skin. "And that's the torso and the arms, and there's the legs." I squinted at the odd gray splotch, but you could definitely distinguish the oblong shaped head and the small stack of bones that made up the spine. It moved and swiveled, the head bending forward in slow and then quick movements. Occasionally it would jerk or twist like some fucking shit right from the Sci-fi Channel. Alice gasped beside me while Rosalie watched in wonder, her lips parted as she quickly blinked and studied the image, securing it to memory.

"You see that part right there, that fluttering? That's the heart," the nurse said, moving the receiver to the other side of Rosalie's stomach, the rhythmic pulse growing louder as the nurse clicked some keys on the machine. "And that whirring sound, that's your baby's heartbeat." Rosalie grinned, eager to hear the first sounds her baby will ever make, the communication concrete proof of the impending life dwelling within her. The sound was fast and swishing with static and I found the repetitive drone soothing and peaceful, a sweet relief in the constancy.

"Can you tell if it's a girl or a boy yet?" Alice asked the nurse who was now placing the receiver in a different spot, pushing and distorting Rosalie's belly, the flesh stretching and sticking out in odd places and forming strange shapes. It was kind of freaking me out, the way her stomach would mold and shift, and I found myself formulating all types of questions about this. Where do the other organs go? What happens if you don't have the space for a baby, do your bones move and shift? How do the organs fall back into place once the baby is gone? Hundreds of stupid-ass questions began floating through my head, and I wanted to know the answers to all of them. Like, I really wanted to know. I stopped myself from asking, though, not wanting to sound like a fucking fifth grader learning about the wonders of reproduction for the first time, and resolved myself to looking that shit up on the internet when I got home.

"We could definitely tell the sex at this stage, if the baby cooperates of course," the nurse replied pleasantly. She clicked a couple of more keys on the machine and pushed against Rosalie's stomach in a different spot again, and the image on the screen changed and moved. "But it looks like this little one isn't going to cooperate. It's sitting cross-legged and I can't get a good look."

"Aw, it's shy Rose," Alice giggled, but Rosalie frowned at the information.

"Shy my ass, this is Emmett's child we're talking about. There's no way it's shy. It's doing this shit on purpose to torment me," Rosalie said smiling, and I laughed out loud at the thought of the mastermind fetus remaining ambiguous just to piss off Rosalie. If that were the case then I loved this kid already.

Rosalie drove the three of us home, a printed copy of the ultrasound pictures in Alice's fingers. "Esme's going to cry when she sees these," Alice commented, Rosalie watching her from the rearview mirror. Esme had quickly gotten over her disappointment and had chosen to focus on the positives of this situation; she was going to be a grandmother. Oh, she whined about how this made her feel old, but I could see a glimmer of excitement in her warm eyes. Esme lived with a light about her, forging through the darkness and emitting her soft glow to aid everyone she contacted. She now illuminated a path for Rose, offering her what her own pitiful useless excuse of a mother couldn't: guidance. Esme was the only person any of us had known that had been around babies, who knew anything about pregnancy at all, and she was who Rosalie had turned to when she had questions in the middle of the night, questions that the internet couldn't answer, questions that required a more intimate and emotionally loaded response.

It was Friday and Alice had planned on staying over. Her birthday was on Sunday and she wanted to celebrate with a good old fashioned sleepover. Esme was having dinner and cake for her on Sunday and Emmett was driving down in the morning to spend the weekend in Forks. We were pretty sure he'd be consuming Rosalie's time on Saturday, so we had decided to have a slumber party tonight. Edward hadn't been home in a while and took the opportunity to spend some time with his aunt and uncle. He said he was going to hang out with Jasper to play video games and watch Band of Brothers for the umpteenth time, or something, and I was really glad he wasn't taking this as a rejection. Ever since my dad's funeral, Edward had been exceptionally observant, watching me like a hawk, fucking distraught helplessness glowering at me from his lovely accepting green eyes every time I skipped lunch at school or when he woke up alone to find me engulfed in smoke on the front porch. He knew what I was doing, he knew it all, and yet constant he remained. _"He saw how I worried sometimes, it seemed like he read my mind…"_

We spent the evening lounging in the living room while the girls snacked on various leftovers from meals Edward had prepared. We watched movies and gave each other pedicures and discussed asinine shit like whether celebrities were really dating; laughed at stupid people on American's Funniest Home Videos and then discussed the fact that people falling off things or getting hit in the balls was always funny. Never once did they mention my diet, or lack thereof, and eventually we felt tired enough to warrant sleep.

We crawled into Rose's bed, it being the largest and most comfortable space for sleepovers, and even though Charlie's room still sent a twinge to my tummy, the room smelled of Rosalie now, fresh floral perfumes and fruity body sprays clinging to the sheets and curtains.

Alice and Rosalie were talking about baby names and laughing at the crazy things people were calling their kids nowadays, and I was just beginning to fumble into incoherency when Rosalie shifted in her spot. I swear, she needed like eight pillows to sleep: one to clutch in her arms, one between her knees, one under her belly, one to support her back, one to support the one supporting her back. I was surprised she hadn't suffocated in her fortress of fluff.

"Um, so I just wanted to say thank you for going with me to the appointment," Rosalie muttered into the dark room. "It's really hard to deal with this without Emmett. I was hoping he'd be able to drive down early to go with me, but he couldn't miss any more classes. Anyway, it's kind of scary, all this pregnancy shit, and you guys have really helped me to not lose my mind. I mean, if I had to do this completely alone, I don't think I would be able to. So, thanks."

"Oh shit, are we having the _I love you guys_ talk? Dude! We're not even drunk or stoned or anything. You expect me to do this completely sober?" Alice complained beside me.

Rosalie sat up and reached across me to lovingly shove Alice's shoulder. "Don't make this harder on me than it already is. You know how I hate this kind of shit." Rosalie had been doing this all month, accidentally letting her cool demeanor melt away in spouts of emotional spontaneous combustion. She was constantly blaming it on her hormones but I definitely think her freedom from the judging eyes of her asshole parents had something to do with her emotional release.

"Rose, you know I love you. You're practically my sister. When I first moved here you were my first friend, my only friend, and I don't know what I would have done without you. I'll never forget that time you bitch-slapped Lauren when we were walking home from school after she put gum in my hair. Holy shit! That was the first time I had felt good since my parents died, it was the first time I didn't want to just crawl up in a fucking hole and suffocate in my own sadness. That was a great day," Alice yawned as she reminisced.

"You made me bleach your hair that day," Rosalie said quietly.

"I know. I just wanted to be something different, you know, leave that life behind. I figured it was the only thing I could control," Alice responded, propping herself up onto her elbow.

"It's fucking brutal being the new kid. It's like people get off on seeing what they can get away with, you know? How far can we push this girl until she breaks, kind of thing," I said, my mind drifting back to that first time I had eaten lunch with the Cullens. Rosalie had grilled my shit, question after question meant to expose me for the fraud that I was, and now here she was, pouring her heart out, living in Charlie's old room, three months from delivering a baby. It was astonishing to me the difference a year makes.

"Sometimes it's just out of fear, you know? I was a total bitch to you, Bella, because I was kind of weirded out by how close you and Alice became, and it all happened so quickly," Rosalie mumbled, her voice sticky with apprehension. "I mean, fuck, Alice, just the week before I was the one braiding your hair for you and then you hacked it all off without even telling me and I know it's stupid but I just kind of felt like you didn't need me anymore. I've never been needed, you know? Growing up in my house, we were just nuisances that had to be dealt with. God forbid they ever took the time to make us feel needed, because that's a sign of weakness. To need something, to depend on someone else makes you weak." We were silent while she spoke, allowing her the peace to disclose as she felt necessary. Rosalie needed this, we all did, but I don't think she ever dealt with her emotions, just used something else to cover them up whether it was diving into her school work or perfecting her appearance

I could see now why she attached herself to a particularly strong family unit like the Cullens'. She needed them. She needed their guidance, their acceptance, their love. They were her surrogate family, and I had come along and completely thrown off the dynamic, challenged the comfort she had grown so accustomed to depending on. It was so obvious now; she had accepted Alice as her sister, had furrowed under Esme's wing, and her devotion to Emmett for providing all this for her, for giving her a family, for giving her love and care when no one else had.

"It wasn't that I didn't _need_ you anymore, Rose," Alice explained. "I just needed to find out who I was, what I wanted, you know, do things on my own."

"Do things on your own? Did that have to include my brother?" Rosalie snorted. I couldn't tell if she was teasing or if she was truly upset about Alice finding herself in Jasper.

"That was part of it, yeah," Alice said indignantly. "Everyone's always trying to protect me - you, Edward, my aunt and uncle. I just wanted to experience life, you know, see it, feel it, taste it, really live because I know what happens when you don't. My mom never lived. She was a prisoner to my father, shackled to his episodes, his guilt, and his disease. Everyday I could see she had resigned herself to the life she had chosen and never once did it occur to her to leave. Every time he destroyed the walls, every time she locked us in our rooms, every time I curled up in that bathtub I prayed for her to take us and leave. God, I fucking prayed for her to get the balls to save us, to save herself, but she never did." Alice's voice cracked as she forced the words, her confessions sent out into the darkness of the room. Slow, quiet tears slipped from my own lids as I thought of myself and Edward, the parallels disturbingly similar as I fit the lock on Edward's shackles, chaining him to my disease and not having the balls to save myself.

"And then I met Bella and she needed me. I realized I could be like you, Rose. I could show Bella what you showed me, that you don't have to be exceptional to be loved, you have to be exceptional to love others." These words hung in the air, the truth like honey oozing with sickening sweetness. Sickening, because I wasn't exceptional in any way, and these people loved me, Edward, Alice, and now even Rose. How could I love them back? How could I be a proper friend, daughter, partner if I couldn't step outside of myself to love them back properly? Was it fair to just take it, accept their love and offer nothing in return? Not one of these people deserved that from anyone, least of all from me.

"I hated that you cut your hair. That was like our thing, you know, and when you hacked it off it was like you were cutting that bond, severing the relationship that I had found myself depending on, and then I found out you were fucking my brother and I wanted to scream at you because I knew he was trouble and I knew you wouldn't listen. Then Bella came along and I kind of freaked out. I tried to control the situation, tried to force things back to normal. It took a little plus sign on a pregnancy test for me to realize that I never really had control of anything. Things were never _normal_, I was never normal. I spent my young life trying to be what they wanted, trying to be perfect, overcompensating for a fucked up childhood. I don't want to do that to my kid. I don't want to be the cold, neglectful bitch that my mother was. I realized that the only thing I can control is my own actions, my decisions, my perceptions. And it was all clear, you know, what I wanted, who I wanted to be. It just all made sense."

"You're going to be a really good mom, Rose," Alice whispered. "And I'm sorry you felt so bad. If I would have known, I…"

"No, you didn't do anything wrong, Alice. I had to sort this shit out on my own, you know. And I'm really happy living here, Bella. I'm happy washing dishes and working and paying for my own shit, tasting life, as you put it, Alice. It's hard, you know, without that sense of security my old life provided, without the comforts of approval. You know these women, they come into the hospital and see me sitting there, barely nineteen and as big as a fucking house pregnant and I see shame and pity and disgust in their faces. I know what they're thinking, that I'm just some stupid slutty girl that got knocked up, and it's so fucking hard not to smack the shit out of their judgmental faces. They don't know me, they don't know anything about my situation. They don't know that I'm the happiest I've ever been and that this baby has made all the difference." Rosalie's thoughts flooded from her lips, the darkness providing a blanket of safety and making it easier to remove the emotional shield she used to guard herself from others. I quietly listened, envious of her happiness, wishing I could make the choice to love the things around me instead of longing for answers I could never have.

"I'm sorry, Bella, sorry I judged you. I'm sorry I made you feel uncomfortable and I'm very thankful that you were able to accept me, even when I couldn't return the favor. I was just scared of being replaced. They all love you, you know. We…we all love you, and just so you know, you're not alone either." She reached over to me in the darkness, looking for a connection, and clutched my arm, her slender fingers warm on my skin. I rested my hand on hers, acknowledging her apology but unable to verbally respond, afraid of the blubbering mess I would become if I tried to speak.

"Jesus Rose, is this what happens when you get pregnant? You turn into a Meg Ryan movie?" Alice whispered, causing the three of us to burst into laughter, the heavy emotional tone lightened as we rolled on the bed, our tears turning to laughter and then turning to tears again as we considered how accurate her statement was. Eventually our hilarity quieted and the laughter was replaced with the sound of soft snores as my friends drifted off to sleep and, like always, I lay there, awake, the pounding in my brain creeping through my body, so many emotions festering in my mind and preventing the calmness of slumber. I envied my friends beside me, their ability to freely embrace sleep, set aside their worry and just rest.

Why couldn't I fucking do that? Why couldn't I just get over this shit and just fucking rest? Alice could do it, she had found her mother stabbed to death and she could do it. Rosalie could do it, she was bringing a child into the world in three months and here she was, snoring away next to me. I couldn't fucking lay there anymore, the desire to squirm unbearable, my skin starting to scream and my chest tightening as my legs twitched, aching to move me from my confined position between my two peacefully sleeping friends. I could hear my heart pounding, anxiety asphyxiating in my chest, and I couldn't take it any longer. I inched myself from beneath the fluffy down comforter and slid to the end of the bed to creep silently out of the room.

I just needed to silence the pounding, just for a fucking second, so I could breathe, so I could finally rest. I swiftly ran down the steps, the wooden floor cold on my bare feet. My tote was on the kitchen table and I quickly dug through the gum wrappers and receipts, sorting through the random shit littering the bottom of the bag before my fingers grazed across the sharp edged packet of pills, Charlie's pills. I popped two from the foil and swallowed them quickly and then gulped down a large glass of water, waiting for the chemicals to invade my brain.

I sank into the couch and wrapped the tattered afghan around me as my heart rate slowed, my mind numbing over as I drifted into fuzzy complacency, my limbs tranquil and relaxed. I told myself I would only take them in cases of emergencies, just for a while, until I could deal with this shit on my own and then, I would toss them, flush them down the toilet. I promised myself it wouldn't be like last time, that I would find the strength to be exceptional and worthy of love, and that this was just a crutch until I was healed, until I got over Charlie's death, until things were back to normal.

And the entire time I was making these promises to myself, I knew I was completely full of shit.

…

**Joni Songs Referenced**

All I Want

I Think I Understand

Court and Spark

Roses Blue

Thank you for reading, my sweets.


	26. I am as Constant as the Northern Star

**Darlings,**

It's so interesting to see the varying viewpoints for this very complex situation. Thank you for sharing your thoughts, I appreciate all of them! I've been asked a few times so I just thought I'd let you all know that there are currently 33 chapters outlined for this story…so the end is approaching. This is, of course, based on the assumption that I can control that wicked wordiness that takes over my fingers.

The lovely **Mina Cullen** verified medical jargon. Thank you so much sweets, I know how busy you are and I'm so grateful for your help, my love.

**n7of9** is beta. She's a genius. (I know I've said it before, but I have a whole new appreciation for what she does because I got the chance to play beta for the darling **britpacksuccubus.) **Three hundred and fifty-something days, bb. I'm getting your suite ready.

Disclaimers make everything all better. It's not mine.

**CH 26 **_**"I am as Constant as the Northern Star"**_

**BPOV**

"Bella," a muffled voice, hollow and vacant called to me, while I saw white flashes before my eyes as I struggled to control my lids. Was I blinking? I thought I was blinking but I couldn't really see anything. Cool fingers caressed my face, the gentle touches familiar as I struggled to hang on to the incoherency of dreamless sleep. I could hear someone in the kitchen and the faint smell of toasted bread wafted through the air. I groaned and rolled over as the crocheted afghan tightened around me, my head pounding as I finally opened my eyes, flashes of copper and green filling the space.

"Edward?" I croaked, my throat dry from a night of uninterrupted, drug-induced, euphoric sleep. Shit, what time was it? The last thing I remembered was the foiled packet of pills in my fingers, and then curling up on the couch and passing out. Edward's fingers brushed through my hair, the tingling on my scalp abnormally vivid and sharp, his delicate lips adorning my forehead and cheeks.

"Rise and shine, sleeping beauty," Emmett called from the doorway of the kitchen, a bagel in his hand and a smear of cream cheese in the corner of his mouth. I rubbed at my eyes, groggily blinking as I pushed myself up to a sitting position, a wave of vertigo causing my head to spin. My head pounded, the pressure throbbing against my eyes and ears. Even my fucking teeth hurt, the dreamless sleep thick and completely consuming. I groaned at the rush of blood invading my brain, the fissures of light clouding my vision. I felt like I had been run over by a fucking truck and then just left to wither on the side of the road in an incapacitated state.

"Fuck, my head is pounding," I mumbled as Edward massaged the muscles in my neck. Note to self: two pills is too fucking much.

"Shit, how much did you drink?" Edward asked, a slight smirk upon his lips and I shook my head, the movement causing my brain to bounce around my skull. Well, that's what it felt like anyway.

"We didn't. I couldn't sleep so I came down here. I must have slept weird or something," I muttered. Yeah, I lied. I fucking lied, but I didn't want to discuss the pills with Emmett standing right there and Edward hovering over me like a mother hen. It didn't really matter anyway, I had learned my lesson. That was a large dosage meant for a large man and it had totally kicked my ass. I could easily cut the dosage in half and still get the desired effect. Fuck, I wish I would have thought of that last night.

"How you doing Bella?" Emmett asked as he sat on the couch next to me, the springs groaning under his large mass. He stretched his arm around my shoulder and hugged me to his side, and I winced at the searing pain slicing through my head as he clutched my shoulder.

"I'm doing. How was your drive?" I blinked, trying to force away the white flashes and grasping the couch to steady myself as Edward left my side, returning with some Advil and a glass of water. I quickly swallowed down the pills and Edward's lips grazed my cheek as his body settled beside mine.

"Sucked. You know, same old shit. I guess it's not really that bad. I could probably make the drive in my sleep. Actually, I think I have made the drive in my sleep, or parts of it anyway," Emmett chuckled.

Rosalie trudged down the stairs, her bare feet hidden by the hem of her stretchy yoga pants and Emmett's extra large t-shirt pulled over her belly, and Emmett immediately got up to greet her. He pulled Rosalie into his arms, a careful hug as he pressed his lips to hers, his hands moving up to cradle her face. His massive hands were gentle and exceptionally cautious, delicate in every embrace and caress as she pressed her face into his chest and allowed him to encompass her. It was so very intimate, his nurturing care for her and the way she let him dote on her, a side of the two of them that we hadn't seen in the past but were frequently an audience to now.

Emmett muttered something into Rosalie's ear before moving his hands to rest on her belly, his head bending to kiss the top of her tummy as he spoke. "Hi baby, I'm home, I missed you," he said, his voice soft and loving.

Rosalie smiled down at Emmett adoring her belly and I instantly felt that unease again, like an intruder, the answer to a _what's wrong with this picture_ puzzle. I looked over at Edward, who was watching them as well, but he didn't seem uncomfortable or freaked out by the public display of fetal affection. Why was this bothering me so much?

Alice bound down the stairs behind Rose, a strip of paper in her fingers, dressed and abnormally buoyant for…whatever time it was. "What's up, nerds?"

"Alice, I heard there is documentation of my prodigy. I would like to bask in its gloriousness now, if you don't mind," Emmett hugged his cousin and Alice handed over the ultrasound pictures, Edward leaving my side to go look at them as well.

"Yep, that's Emmett's big head," Edward commented.

"Poor kid," Alice laughed.

"Poor kid? Poor Rose! Seriously, why is its head so big?" Edward turned the photo upside down, examining it from all angles.

Rosalie snatched the picture from Edward's fingers with pure disgust on her face. "Bite me, asshole. My baby's head is just fine, the doctor said so." She looked appraisingly at the photo, squinting her eyes and pursing her lips as she tilted her head to the side. "Emmett, is our baby's head too big?"

"Of course not, it's perfect," Emmett said as he kissed her cheek.

"_He's_ perfect," Alice chimed in. "I think it's a boy."

"Is this for real or is this one of your card thingies?" Emmett asked her as Rosalie moved to rest in the chair next to me.

"My card thingies _are_ real," Alice protested. "They practically predicted Edward would get into culinary school and that came true." Edward looked up at me quickly, his eyes electric as he gauged my response.

"What?" I asked, shocked as all hell Edward hadn't disclosed this information to me himself. "You got accepted? When? What did they say? Why didn't you tell me?" The questions rambled from my lips, confusion festering on my features as I waited impatiently for his response.

"Um, I just kind of forgot, I guess," he mumbled, shrugging his shoulders as he moved to sit beside me. He forgot? Are you fucking kidding me? How could he forget something like that?

"You forgot?" I laughed, my irritation manifesting itself in an incredulous fit of amusement. No, I was beyond irritated, I was downright hurt, and the only thing I could think of to do was laugh. "Does everyone know?" I looked around, Emmett and Rosalie suddenly intent on their own hands and fingernails. Alice just stared at me apologetically and I knew she felt bad for spilling but it wasn't her that I was upset with.

"I…I don't know. Esme was putting away some of my laundry and she found the letter in my drawer. She asked me about it and then told Carlisle but I didn't think they had told anyone else, besides Alice," Edward said, his hand squeezing my leg. I looked at Alice now, her familiar green eyes cast downward as they met mine, and I knew.

"I'm the only one who didn't know, aren't I?" I asked them, looking from one set of hidden eyes to the next, Edward's the only pair to focus on mine. Motherfuckers! I can't believe none of them mentioned it to me or even asked me about it, like they were keeping it from me on purpose. This is what pissed me off, the negative connotation their secretiveness held.

"Unbelievable," I muttered under my breath as I stormed upstairs to the bathroom, slamming the door behind me and turning the lock with a triumphant click. How could he forget to tell me something like that, something our entire future was hinging on, and he just fucking _forgot_ to tell me? I surmised this was bullshit, the whole forgetting thing. This wasn't something you just forgot. We'd been waiting to get this letter for fucking months.

I turned on the tap, letting the cold water run over my fingers until they were numb. I wasn't being irrational, was I? I took some deep breaths and looked at myself in the mirror, at my hair as it lay limp around my face, the dark circles surrounding my eyes, my skin stretched tight over protruding cheek bones. I sighed and looked away, unable to face the person in the mirror. Fuck, I looked pathetic! Used up and tossed aside! I frantically splashed icy water on my face, the cold feeling like pin pricks against my skin and causing me to gasp. I ran my fingers through my hair and discarded the stray strands caught between them, still trying to collect my thoughts when I heard a soft rap on the door.

"Bella?" Edward's muffled voice called to me from the other side of the door. "Bella, open the door please."

I sighed and turned off the water. I hated this feeling, like a fucking child kept out of the conversation on purpose. Did he think I couldn't handle this, that I couldn't handle New York? Maybe he didn't want me to go with him anymore. Maybe he had realized that I wasn't worth all of this shit he had to put up with, that I was just fucked-up Bella and he could be so much more without me. Not one of these hypothetical worst-case scenarios I came up with could I see myself living through.

"Bella, please," Edward pleaded again. I could hear his fingernail scratching at the paint on the other side and I pictured his beautiful face riddled with rejection. It literally made me ache to think that I put that rejection there, even if it was well deserved.

I unlocked the door, the click like a sigh of relief as Edward turned the knob.

"Can I come in?" he asked, and I mumbled a yes, moving to sit on the edge of the bathtub as he walked into the small room. He stood in front of the door for a fully silent and awkward as fuck minute before moving to sit beside me, pulling the door closed behind him.

"I'm sorry Bella. I should have told you as soon as I got the letter. You've had a lot to deal with and I didn't want to make any of this about me. I was going to tell you as soon as I had a chance. But then you found your mom's letters and Rose moved in and I don't know, my news didn't seem that important," he said quickly, his hands folded as his elbows rested on his knees.

"Not that important? Edward! It's like the most important thing out there right now," I responded, my voice exasperated beyond belief. How could he think the key to our entire future was unimportant?

"No, it's not," he said quietly. I knew he was talking about my lack of diet but I ignored it, not willing to rehash the argument in this particular moment. I closed my eyes and took deep breaths as I tried to find the words to adequately express the hurt and panic I was feeling.

"I just don't understand why you didn't tell me right away. And then you didn't tell me when everyone else had found out. Shit! I feel like a fucking idiot. They couldn't even look at me down there. And you just spout out some lame excuse, _I forgot_. I forgot? Are you fucking kidding me? You couldn't think of _anything_ better to say?" I argued, trying to keep my voice as hushed as possible. I didn't want the whole fucking house to know I was upset, but the emotion was overwhelming my sense of volume control.

"Bella, what did you want me to say? I didn't tell you because I didn't think you'd care? You could have asked me about it. I mean, fuck, you haven't mentioned New York since your mom was here. Should I have told you that I think the only letters that are important to you, you have committed to memory? That I didn't tell you because you seem perfectly comfortable dwelling on the past instead of looking to the future? Because you're killing yourself and you don't even give a fuck? You're just like your father, Bella." I startled at his words, the implication in his voice knocking the wind out of me and, for a moment, I literally couldn't breathe.

I stood there, my chest heaving as tears burned in my eyes, one hand on my hip and the other pulling at my hair, and I couldn't even look into his eyes, fearing what I would find there; malice, disappointment, rejection, I didn't know if I could handle that shit right now. Because he was right, about all of it, he was completely correct.

Suddenly he pulled me to him, begging me, his hands clutching the large shirt I was wearing, his head bending to mine, forcing me into the green haze his eyes had become. His voice was whispered and frantic, hysteria invading every syllable. "Please, Bella. Please, you have to stop this. You have to. If something were to happen to you…I…I wouldn't be able to live with myself, knowing it could have been prevented, that I could have done something. Please, please, I'm begging you. I'm fucking begging you." His wet cheeks pressed against mine, his breath hot on my ear and neck as he burrowed himself into the curve of my shoulder, and I wrapped my arms around him, feeling the muscles of his back constrict with each heaving sob.

I gasped, the wail bursting from my chest, his pleas burning right through me, twisting my stomach and pulsing in my head. He doesn't deserve this, to see me like this, to feel like this, nobody did. And here I was, turning a knife into his already perforated heart. I am just like him, just like her, the most despicable parts of both of my cowardly parents. The worst part was that I knew this, I fucking knew it. I had known it all along, since the day my mother chose to strip Charlie of everything. I knew I was complete shit but it wasn't until now that I realized just how horrifically selfish I am capable of being. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, does it?

"I'm so sorry, Edward, so, so sorry," I whispered as I clutched him to me, unable to let him go. But I should. I should let him go, I should let him leave me, let him find someone who would bring him peace and could offer him care, someone who wasn't so damn needy and pathetic. He deserved to be with someone who could equal his devotion, someone who was exceptional. If I had any balls at all, I would let him go.

But I don't. I'm weak and selfish and cruel, and so I continue to pull him to me, binding him to me, the thought of any of this without him nauseating. Bile rose in my throat as I envisioned some other girl wrapped around his waist or pressed against his hips. I tightened my hold, relishing in the comfort of the physical connection, my match, excelling when I failed, providing when I could only take.

"You have nothing to apologize for. We should be happy, right? Celebrating and shit. We're going to New York, Bella." Edward kissed my cheek and then my eyelid and my forehead, his lips peppering every inch of my skin. "And we love each other. That alone is worth celebrating, right?"

"But I don't understand why. Why do you even bother with me, I'm so much fucking work. One of these days you're going to get sick of it." Edward rolled his eyes, the exact response I was expecting, but I found his disinterest with this concern infuriating nonetheless.

"Stop looking at me like that, will you? You just …you deserve so much better," I said, letting the words fall from my mouth, tears streaming down my cheeks as I offered him the chance. "If you want to go to New York alone, I would completely understand. I would be okay here, you wouldn't have to worry about me."

"What…what are you talking about?" Edward pulled back to look at my face and I met his eyes, trying to tell him to go, to leave and not look back, to realize what I was, what destruction I could cause, just like them, just like my parents.

"Bella, I'm not going anywhere without you. You're stuck with me, and you'd better just get used to the idea. I am a constant Bella, like the Northern Star."

"Constantly in the darkness," I mumbled, the chiming soprano voice set aside a soft melodic guitar strumming through my brain. "That's from a Joni Mitchell song."

"I know," Edward grinned at me, sheepishly proud he had extracted the lyric from his memory. "It's actually pretty arrogant of me to say, I mean, it's the brightest star in the sky, it's pretty much fixed, and from our perspective the whole sky revolves around it. It's been there for centuries, it's even mentioned in the bible. And it will never fail, it will always be there. Unless there's a polar shift or something, which technically is plausible. You know…"

"Edward," I said, interrupting his astronomy lesson. I knew he was just trying to lighten the situation, but his words rang clear in my head. "You're right. You are a constant," I said nodding my head in agreement.

And I was the darkness.

Edward was brilliant, a star of luminous beauty constant in his position, constant in his love and devotion, a constant in the darkness that I called my existence, and I was consuming him, using him up, and for what? So I could feel love, so I could be comforted, so I could share his family? It was all for me, all about me and what I needed. I knew that Edward enjoyed my company and that he loved me, but I truly didn't know how much of our relationship was fueled by fear. Edward had said himself that he was afraid and worried about my health and that he would never leave me. But how much of this was because he felt obligated to protect me or to save me from myself? And what if he couldn't? What if despite all his efforts, despite all his fretting over my nutrition and health, I couldn't find it within myself to be enough for him?

I just didn't know what this love was going to cost him. I looked at his splendid face, a tiny scar under his eye where his stitches had been so long ago, a split in the skin that I had caused, and I wondered what other scarring I would be responsible for. As we grew older, would he grow bitter and indifferent? Would the perpetual worry wear a hole in his heart? Would he eventually resent me for the years he could have spent as a carefree young adult, years that he is forsaking to take care of me and my issues? At some point, will he, like Renee, decide that it was his turn? We will change and grow and who's to say that it will always be for the better? I wanted so much for him to be content and at ease and happy, but I couldn't help but feel that the poison of regret now invading my soul would spill and contaminate those around me.

Running my finger over the mark, I pressed my lips to his, desperate and wishing there was some way to make all of this easier for him. I could feel the urgency in his lips as they crumbled against mine, accepting me in as my tongue slid across his lips, and I knew he was probably thinking the same thing, how he could make this easier. His mind was always sorting out situations, trying to find the path of least resistance. That's what our love was, the path of least resistance. It was the easiest thing for me to do, to love Edward, to let him love me. It was just a natural inclination and to deny him was just perverse, an abomination to my very soul.

Edward's hands roamed and grazed and pulled at my cumbersome clothing, and I pulled my shirt over my head, the cold biting at my naked skin. Edward slid his hands across my back, his fingers tracing the lines of my spine before grasping at the nape of my neck, his lips dancing across my skin with quick, furious kisses along my neck and shoulders and breasts. My pulse quickened at the feel of his warm face on my skin, the slight scratch of his stubbly chin causing goosebumps to spread across my back and down my arms.

I gasped when his mouth moved to kiss my stomach, the skin prickling where his lips had been, and then again as he licked at my belly button, his hands quickly removing any clothing in his way. I moaned softly when his mouth moved between my thighs, his tongue lightly licking the pulsing flesh as my hands pulled at his hair, my legs no longer useful as he pushed me against the counter, lifting me to balance on the edge of the cold tile, his hands pressing my legs apart, his mouth flush and hot and enticing the sensitive skin. I cursed under my breath as I came, my body rippling and stuttering and resonating as the tingling wave of euphoria washed over me. He pulled my hips into his face and my back arched against the icy glass of the mirror as I stifled the moans bubbling in my chest, the pleasure overwhelming my previous ponderings.

Edward slowly pulled away, his lips kissing the inside of my legs and the pointy bone of my hip. His hands eased into gentle caresses over my thighs, calming strokes as he stood up and kissed my knobby shoulder. He wrapped his arms around my waist, his face pressed into my chest as I rested my chin in the tangled array of reds and browns on top on his head.

"I'm sorry I hurt you," Edward murmured against my skin.

"I'm sorry I hurt you too," I responded, breathing the words into his hair as I inhaled his warm honey scent, my exposed body shivering as I squirmed to get closer to his warmth.

"Why don't you get showered and then we'll all go out and get some dinner to celebrate?" Edward suggested.

"Dinner? What time is it?" I asked him as I slid down off the counter to turn on the shower, the water freezing as it splattered against the shower curtain.

"It was only like two when we got here, but we could make it an early dinner, maybe go bowling or catch a movie or something after," Edward said, leaning against the counter and picking up one of Rosalie's brushes and tossing it in the air. I watched it spin before realizing that he'd just said it was two o'clock. In the afternoon.

"Shit! I slept all day? Why didn't you wake me up?" I checked the temperature of the water, anxious to step into the warmth. I couldn't believe I had wasted an entire day sleeping.

"I did wake you up," Edward responded as I stepped into the hot spray, letting the scalding water burn my skin. The sharp contrast of temperatures was almost unbearable but I forced myself to stay under the stream.

"Well, why didn't you wake me up earlier?" I peeked from behind the shower curtain to see him seated on the counter now, turning the brush in his hands.

"I woke you up as soon as I got here. And it's okay to sleep in once in a while. Your body is just trying to catch up for all the late nights, you know, all that rigorous activity," he winked at me and I had to roll my eyes, trying to stifle a schoolgirl giggle because, yeah, he was partially responsible for all the rigorous activity and some of the late nights.

"I know but, shit, all fucking day? I can't believe Rosalie or Alice didn't wake up my lazy ass," I quickly washed, the soap suds running down my backside and swirling around my feet.

"They wanted to let you sleep. Why are you so freaked out about this?" Edward asked loudly, trying to be heard over the shower.

"I'm not freaked out. I'm just pissed I slept an entire day away." I turned off the shower, Edward handing me a towel from the other side of the curtain, his green eyes roaming my body as his devious lips curled into a smirk that I couldn't help but return.

"That just means you'll have lots of time tonight to do stuff," Edward said softly as I quickly dried off, wrapping the towel tight around my body.

"Whatever will I do? Maybe we could play cards or something," I said innocently as Edward pushed my wet hair away from my face, his fingers lightly lingering on my neck and shoulders.

"Strip poker?" he suggested, his eyebrows arched in anticipation.

"That's the only poker I'm good at," I said as I brushed past him to open the door, moving quickly to my room, anxious to get dressed. "I've got a mean poker face."

"Oh, I'm well acquainted with your poker face," Edward snorted. It felt so good, this light conversation, flirty and easy, "_Street light on a rooftop memory…"_

God, I missed this. I missed him. I missed the ease of being with him when I wasn't so busy being me. Shit, even in my head that didn't make sense, but I didn't care. This just felt good, better. Better than I had felt in a long time.

We all met Jasper for dinner at some burger joint in town and then the six of us went to the drive-in for a comedy double feature, freezing our asses off in the back of my truck until it started to rain. We watched some slapstick shit that caused me to laugh so hard I almost peed my pants. We celebrated Edward's acceptance letter and talked about our plans to move to New York. Operation Culinary Academy, as Edward liked to call it, was in full swing but I couldn't help but feel a little sad about the family we would be leaving behind. In September, Rose will have a four-month old baby and Emmett will have to go back to school. She will truly be on her own then and even though she'd have the Cullens nearby, I felt guilty about leaving her. Jasper would be leaving for Seattle and Alice planned to move in with him in January. She would be starting her senior year of high school and she had enough credits to procure an early graduation, but still, she would have to attend at least one semester. I wondered what school would be like for her. She didn't really have any friends outside of her family, and I don't know, I just worried about her.

And I would miss them. This was the first time in my life that I had been around a family like this, the first time that I had friends that knew me, that worried about _me_, and even though we'd only be gone a short while, I wasn't looking forward to the separation. I would miss Rose's morning routine of listening to nineties grunge music while getting ready for work, and Emmett's dirty jokes when he came home on the weekends. I would miss Jasper's conspiracy theories and the way he'd get everyone all fired up with discussion. And I would especially miss my talks with Alice. She was someone I could trust, not only to empathize or relate, but to tell me when I was being a complete idiot. They truly were my family now. _"You sing for your friends and your family…" _

…

Fuck. You have got to be kidding me. I was sitting on the toilet in fucking Target, staring at my underwear and the streak of blood staining the inside of my adorable new pink polka dot undies. Shit! My body is completely inept.

This was how it had been for the last…shit, I don't even know, since this summer, I guess, a spotting every couple of months, just enough to ruin a pair of underwear but not enough for me to really give a shit. I'd feel crampy, but then again my stomach was always upset, a side effect from the purging, normal digestion now my nemesis. In the beginning I tried to keep track of it but it was so irregular and disheartening that I eventually just gave it up. I'd get tired and achy but then again, I was always tired, sleep hadn't exactly been a comfort to me since Charlie had died, and I was weak, my muscles aching if I ever had to actually use them.

I pulled a panty liner from my bag, my past experiences teaching me to be prepared at least, and affixed it into place, murmuring curses as I thought of my ruined undies. I pulled myself together, washing my hands and rushing from the restroom to find Alice and Rosalie. They had to be halfway through the stupid baby registry by now.

Rosalie was having a baby shower next month and she had decided to register for gifts. Truthfully, Rose didn't even want a baby shower, claiming she didn't really have any friends or family that would come, but she had became close with a couple of ladies who worked with her at the call center and a bunch of Esme's friends were already planning on bringing over gifts, so Alice took it upon herself to organize a party. She had centered the shower around Van Gogh's painting, _Starry Night_, the expressionistic swirls perfect for the already cosmically critiqued babe. Alice had looked up much of the astrological information and had performed spread after spread looking for any enlightening clues.

Baby Cullen remained elusive despite the efforts of three ultrasound technicians. Every time Rose went to the hospital the baby was in an awkward position, making it impossible to determine if Alice had been correct in her prediction. We would eventually find out, of course, and fucking soon. Rosalie's baby would be here in, like, six weeks. She was officially due on the second day of May but was quick to explain that babies were rarely born on their actual due date and that it could be a couple of weeks before or after, so Alice had planned the baby shower for the beginning of April, two weeks from today.

I walked the aisles looking first in the baby section of the store and finding it vacant, then searching the surrounding departments, stopping to grab about eight things that I didn't really need, until finally, I heard them in Home Improvements. Alice was trying to pull the scanner from Rosalie's hand, who was apparently trying to scan one of those mini electric screwdrivers.

"But I need this, the baby needs this. I'm going to have to put together a bunch of shit like cribs and changing tables, you don't really expect me to screw those together by hand, do you?" Rosalie grumbled through clenched teeth as Alice pulled the scanner out of her hands.

"Dude, that is so tacky. You can't put a screwdriver on your baby registry. Why don't you just register for a manicure? And we have one of these at home, you can borrow it," Alice said sarcastically before she turned and disappeared down the aisle, probably heading back to the baby goods.

Rosalie pulled her shirt down to snuggly fit over her expanding belly and smoothed her hair back out of her face. "That's a great idea. I haven't had a manicure in months," she mumbled to me as she passed by, following Alice. I picked up the pink electric screwdriver. Rose had been nesting lately, that's what she had called it anyway, and it consisted of lots of cleaning and organizing. She had been diligently making lists of all the things she wanted to do and took great satisfaction in scratching each one off as she accomplished the task.

I quickly walked to the cash register and purchased the tool as a small token of gratitude for Rosalie's capacity to fix shit. I don't know if she'd been secretly watching reruns of Bob Villa or something, but I would never have guessed Rosalie was so skilled at home improvements.

Carefully concealing my purchase in my tote bag, I found Alice and Rosalie in the health and beauty section discussing diapers, of all things. Alice was trying to persuade Rose to use these new natural diapers, supposedly they were better for the environment or something, while Rosalie was looking for a new nail color, staring at a multitude of shades of red and all the while frowning at the drug store brand. She quickly used the scanner to scan the polish, giving me a sly smile as she managed to discreetly add the item to her registry.

I quietly pressed a pill from the foil packet in my purse, carefully placing it into my mouth and swallowing it quickly. We were having dinner at the Cullens' tonight. Carlisle and Esme had been a bit lonely lately, the empty nest syndrome beginning to set in. Every weekend Emmett was in town he spent at our house with Rose, Edward practically lived with us already, and with Jasper working so much, Alice was at our house every day after school. Generally, that meant Esme was home alone, seeing as how Carlisle's schedule at the hospital was pretty strenuous. She had decided to slowly start taking clients again, her time now occupied with flooring samples and fabric swatches.

Edward had gone over to the house to prepare dinner and I was sort of dreading the meal. Having Edward's eyes constantly on me was bad enough, but under the watchful gaze of Carlisle and Esme I knew that if the opportunity arose, I would be perfectly poised for an intervention. I just couldn't eat. The sensation of hunger was there but each time I tried to force the food into my body I was instantly sickened by the substance. There were no positive sensations, no good smells, no mouthwatering flavors, just nothing. Food was nothing to me, empty and devoid of any satisfaction at all.

Satisfaction instead now came in the form of a small chalky tablet. I had adjusted the dosage and had been alternating the medications so that I could maximize effect and minimize dependency. And I was finally able to sleep, drowsiness being one of the benefits of the possible side effects. I was able to settle into a decent routine, a normal bedtime, and Edward perceived this as progress. He'd smile as I settled into bed with him, pulling me into his arms before I allowed the darkness of sleep to consume me. The nights he slept at Carlisle's home I would double my dose to make sleep more easily accessible.

It wasn't perfect, but it was better. I mean, lots of people took medication for things, depression, anxiety, headaches. It wasn't like I was on anything illegal, all of Charlie's drugs were perfectly acceptable and approved by the FDA, for fuck's sake. And they were all prescriptions I could easily get over the internet, anyway. If there was anything wrong with what I was doing, it wouldn't be so fucking easy, right?

We barely survived the car ride to the Cullens' because Rosalie suddenly had to pee and had frantically sped to the house. She was extremely skilled at weaving in and out of traffic as she flipped off shell-shocked drivers, all while scanning her eighties mix on her mp3 player. My stomach cramped and churned and as soon as the car stopped I carefully removed myself from the vehicle, thinking our newfound friendship was not yet ready for the effects of motion sickness. I inhaled the cool, damp air, trying to calm the turmoil in my stomach and the spinning in my head before walking into the house. I felt fucking awful and just wanted to make it to the door without puking in Esme's perennials.

Edward was making marinara in the kitchen, the familiar smells of tomato and basil filling the large house. I could hear the cracking and hissing of hot oil on the stove. Edward was carefully pulling the fried chicken parmesan from the pan, Carlisle's favorite.

"Hey! You're back!" he said as I walked to the counter, pressing my face against the cold granite countertop, the smooth surface bringing sweet relief to the burning of my cheeks. "What's wrong? Are you sick?"

"Possibly," I muttered. "Rosalie drives like a fucking maniac."

Edward chuckled, placing the shiny metal tongs beside the stove as he moved to kiss my forehead. "I know. She once made it to Seattle in under two hours, including the ferry ride across the sound."

"Really? I thought that was just an urban legend," I mumbled. "The ride there wasn't so bad but she drove here like a bat out of hell because she had to pee."

Edward laughed, his hands smoothing the hair from my face, his touch soothing to my disequilibrium. "Dinner will be ready in about ten minutes." He moved back to the stove and stirred the sauce with a wooden spoon before using his finger to swipe a taste. I loved watching him cook, the way he moved around the kitchen was so natural and fluid, like his body worked on its own cognition.

Esme and Carlisle were ecstatic to have a full house again. Carlisle laughed loudly, his chuckle abnormally startling as he enjoyed the multitude of voices and tones filling the dining room. Esme kept hugging us, fixing Edward's hair, refilling Rose's plate, little motherly devotions that she had been storing up and was now provided with exuberance and delight. We passed around plates of food: spaghetti with marinara, chicken, eggplant, salad, garlic bread, the ceramic dishes shared amongst the family. Edward and Jasper discussed the latest sci-fi movie that had recently been released while Carlisle contributed information on how realistic the film actually was. I tried to pay attention, the three of them spouting about artificial gravity or something, but eventually my attention wandered to Esme and Rosalie as they traded pregnancy stories, Alice interjecting into both conversations by adding her whimsical bit of commentary, while I pushed the eggplant around my plate, cutting it into smaller pieces and pushing it under the sauce, grateful for a meal where what I ate was overshadowed by the conversation.

After dinner we played cards, a good old fashioned game of Shit on your Neighbor, and naturally, I sucked. This game is completely based on luck, something that I am completely devoid of, and, as usual, I was the first one out. I sat on the couch while the others played and I eventually drifted off to sleep, the little white pill assisting in the venture. Edward woke me up when it was time to leave and I drove home with Rose, groggy and faded, and longing for the comfort of my bed.

Edward met us at the house, practically carrying me up to my room. He helped me change into my pajamas, pulling the cotton pants up my legs as I leaned on him for support. I remember sinking into the plush mattress, the blankets swallowing me up before sleep eventually drowned out all awareness. _"Upon a soft white bed, I fell into a dream, you sat up all the night to watch me, to see, who in the world I might be…"_

And then there was pain. Holy fuck, my stomach! I clutched at my middle, trying to find the source of the agony, a searing pain throbbing below my belly button. I rolled into a ball, curling onto my elbows and knees, my forehead pressed into the pillow. Jesus fucking Christ! Every move was piercing and every breath staggered as I tried not to aggravate the cramping. I struggled to open my eyes, unable to distinguish between the dark room and the darkness of my closed lids. I stretched my arms out to my side and felt the soft, warm body beside me. Edward.

I twisted my fingers into his t-shirt, using any strength I had to pull at the fabric, the cramping twinge in my stomach intensifying with each movement, but I couldn't wake him. I couldn't speak, I could hardly move, the effect of the drugs still heavy on my awareness.

Eventually, I found the ability to leave the bed and felt a gush of fluid saturate my underwear, and for a moment, in my incoherent state, I thought that maybe I had pissed my pants. I stumbled to the bathroom and pulled down my pants to sit on the toilet as another gush of liquid splashed into the bowl, and I clutched at the pain ripping through my belly. I felt like I was being gutted, the pain stretching into my back and forcing me to curl around my legs. I was freezing and I needed to get warm, so I wiped and stood up to find the toilet water black with blood and thick clots sinking in the dark liquid, blood splashed on the inside of the bowl and smeared on the seat, and I began to panic, my heart pounding in my chest. I looked at my legs, streaks of red down my thighs, and I couldn't breathe, the need to wash it from my body overwhelming all other emotions.

I quickly turned the knob with shaking hands, the freezing water spraying from the showerhead as I clutched at the plastic curtain. The room swayed around me and I struggled to maintain my balance, my fingers pulling at the stiff material as another wave of agony stabbed through my gut. Finally, steam began to fill the space and I stepped into the hot spray, the water pouring over my face as I watched the red liquid loop and swirl around the drain. My heart was beating fast, too fast, and I struggled to breathe before the thumping in my chest began to stutter, a dull thud against my ribs now, slowing, slowing, slowing. Dizziness invaded as I stumbled against the wall, a shock of cold in contrast to the hot water pooling around my feet. The room faded around me, all peripheral images disappearing, the drain now my focus, a circle of darkness floating in a red pool.

…

**A/N**

Joni Referenced:

_Rainy Night House_

_The Last Time I Saw Richard_

_A Melody in Your Name_

_Song for Sharon…_for my darling pumpkin_ball

The shit hath hitteth the fan. The shoe has officially dropped. As always, thank you for reading! I know this is a bit heavy and I appreciate those darlings that are sticking this out. There will be a balance to all this suffering...eventually.


	27. I Want to Free Him

**Darlings,**

Once again, I love you all. I want to take you all out for drinks and quite possible disrupt a nice establishment with noisy, ranting discussion.

Once again, **Mina Cullen** verified all things medical. You're a doll, my love!

I'd like to thank **Completed Irony** for bringing it to my attention that abbreviations aren't ALWAYS acronyms for fics…Terrible Lower Colonitis and The Lonely Cunt are NOT real fics, girls and boys. I laugh at myself.

**n7of9** is my partner in world domination. She also has excellent beta skills.

Disclaimer: I don't own it.

**CH. 27 "I Want to Free Him"**

**EPOV**

The emergency room hummed with activity: an empty gurney rolled past with wheels clacking against the linoleum, a page for a doctor over the PA system, some kid sitting across from me whimpering as his exasperated and impatient mother tried to comfort him. My leg twitched repeatedly, the uncontrollable movement causing my hands to shake as I folded and unfolded them between my knees.

Esme ran her fingers through my hair and kissed the top of my head before sitting next to me in the hospital waiting area where the sun was just beginning to stream between the blinds and scattering the prismatic luminance through the dreary room.

Alice sat on the floor across from me, her cards and notebook laid across the carpet as she quietly looped her scrawl across the page. She wiped at her face, her eyes red and puffy with tears which had been steadily slipping down her cheeks since we had arrived at the hospital nearly three hours ago.

The horror once again pummeled through my chest as I tried to force the earlier images from my brain: red swirling through her dark hair, her pale skin stretched across the bones of her ribcage, the sound of the water smattering against the plastic draped over her frail and barely conscious body, the wail of Rosalie screeching my name. My breath struggled to escape as I gripped my knees tighter.

"She's okay now, Edward, you can relax," Alice murmured as my gaze pierced her familiar eyes. New images flashed through my brain: a bed holding my Bella, her arms riddled with needles, tubes stretched across her face. She had been pretty incoherent and in and out of consciousness when Rose found her heaped on the shower floor, the cold water berating her body. It looked as though she had passed out, clutching the shower curtain and pulling it down with her when she fell. And there was blood, so much fucking blood.

"What fucking part of this is okay, Alice?" I spat.

"Edward, stop." Esme placed her hand on my arm and I let the contact dispel the panic-induced rage now swelling within me. I sighed and cradled my head in my hands, my fingers pulling at my hair, and I found relief in the pain now tingling through my scalp. I needed more, I deserved more, I wanted to suffer for what I had done.

"Okay, the nurse said her doctor will be here in a minute and I don't think she really wants to see my face at that window again." Rosalie resumed her seat in the chair across from me.

We still didn't really know what the fuck was going on. When Rose and I had brought Bella in, they had said they wanted her vitals to stabilize before they could do any real diagnosis, and then they had rolled Bella into the emergency room and left us waiting in the fucking waiting area for the past three hours.

It was Rosalie who suggested it may have been a miscarriage. She had seen the bathroom, the toilet and the shower. She had noticed exactly where the bleeding was coming from and had quickly thrown down towels on the seats of my car before we left. With all the books about pregnancy and babies she had been reading, she recognized the symptoms immediately. All I could think of was that I had done this to Bella, I had put her here, I had hurt her, and my darkest fears had been realized. My stomach churned at the very thought of it, of what I was capable of.

Even if it was a miscarriage, we still didn't know why Bella had passed out, we didn't know why the bleeding was so profuse. I mean, Rosalie had said that chicks have miscarriages and don't even know it's happening, so why would it effect Bella so drastically? Of course, it could be something different all together, but we didn't fucking know because the fucking doctor hadn't come out to talk to us since we had fucking gotten here.

_Please be okay, Bella. Please. Please, please be okay. _

My internal plea was interrupted by a doctor approaching us, her chin-length silvery blond hair floating like liquid as she moved.

"Hello, I'm Doctor Irina, I've been taking care of Bella. I understand you are Dr. Cullen's family?" the woman asked, her voice calm and fixed as she addressed us.

"Yes, I'm Esme Cullen, Carlisle's wife, and this is my family." Esme motioned to us as she stood to shake the doctor's hand.

"Pleased to meet you," the doctor said tersely as she investigated her charts. She studied the graph etched across the paper, glancing at the folder in her hands.

She brushed the hair from her face, tilting her head to one side before giving me a small smile. "Bella's vitals are stabilizing. She's in a room, but she needs to be monitored closely. We will notify you if she wakes up and is coherent, asking questions, holding a conversation, that sort of thing."

"Is she going to be okay? What happened?" I asked, unwilling to wait any longer. The doctor stared at me with calculating eyes as we all waited for an answer. I was hoping she would share some of the information she carefully noted in her file, yet I was fully aware that not one of us was entitled to it. I kept thinking that if everything was okay she would tell us, they only ever keep the bad news a secret, right?

"I understand you're concerned. I also understand her mother lives in Florida and she has no other living relatives. Is this correct?" I nodded, defeated.

"The information is confidential and I really must discuss this with her first. Please understand, it's out of my hands." She turned to leave and I tried to swallow, my tongue thick with disappointment.

"Look lady, we've been sitting here for three hours and not one fucking person has told us anything. Can't you tell us something? Anything?" Rosalie stood up, her round belly making her seem so much more…demanding than normal, if that were even possible.

Dr. Irina eyed Rosalie, carefully. "I understand you're upset, but the law is the law. We'll notify you when she wakes up."

I nodded and thanked her for the information as she turned to walk out of the room, and then I realized she hadn't fucking told us anything at all.

"Well, she was useless as all shit," Rosalie muttered as she plopped back down next to Esme.

"Language, honey," Esme said, her hands twisting in her lap. Rosalie reached over to take Esme's hand in hers, trying to calm both of them. Alice just went back to reading her cards, her eyes blurring over as her shaky hands gently lay the cards before pewter and turquoise-ringed fingers gathered them up, shuffling and laying the spread again.

The morning passed and Bella slept. Carlisle came to check on us with coffee and sandwiches from the cafeteria. Esme called the school to inform them of the situation and to excuse Alice, Bella and I from class. Jasper stopped by on his lunch break and Emmett had called half a dozen times to see if there was any news. And still she slept.

I just went numb. It was the only way I could stop myself from using physical violence to get to Bella. She was on the other side of those doors, just two fucking doors standing in my way, and I spent my time fantasizing about all the things they might do to me if I tried to break through them. Would they arrest me? Beat me to the ground? Most likely just call the middle-aged useless paunchy security guard who I had seen nursing a mocha latte as we had walked in. Maybe he has a taser, or pepper spray. I bet that shit hurts.

Finally, after fucking hours, a nurse came to escort us to Bella's room. She led us through the doors and down a long stretch of pristine corridor before we reached Bella's room. My family waited in the hall, giving me the opportunity to speak with her first. That is, if she'd even speak with me after what I'd done.

Bella was seated in the bed with her knees pulled to her chest, and at first she just looked very small in the large hospital bed. Then I saw the tubes running oxygen to her nose, the I.V. stuck in her hand, heart monitors, wires, all kinds of fucking devices tethering her to the bed. I initially just wanted to rip all that fucking shit from her body and carry her to a place where I could take care of her, where I could make her better.

But I couldn't make Bella better. All I could ever do was destroy. Ruin and destroy everything I had, everything worth living for. I had fucking ruined it all. Relief and a weak smile danced across her face when she saw me, and then her face darkened.

"Don't. Edward, I know what you are doing right now in your head and don't you dare fucking do it." She spoke fiercely, trying to sit up more, to be more forceful. I had to smile at this because she knew, like she had seen it in my head, she knew what I was thinking. I didn't want to upset her so I gently sat on the edge of her bed and took her hand in mine. I listened to the steady beep of the heart monitor as the numbers fluctuated on the screen, the machine reassuring me of the pulse within Bella's body, the blood pumping through her veins and heart, her organs working to sustain the life before me. I felt the sob building in my chest and wiped the wetness from my eyes.

"Hey," she whispered, pulling me to her. "Hey, it's okay. We're too young, anyway. We can't have a baby, that's crazy. It's really okay." I let myself sink into the bed beside her, carefully avoiding the many tubes and wires, as she kissed my forehead, her fingers running through my hair, the tears slipping from my eyes as she tried to soothe me. She was comforting _me_. She had just come out of a traumatic as shit experience and she was reassuring me, doting on me, making sure that I was okay.

Fuck. Fuck! Fucking fuck. I am a complete asshole, utterly repulsive for what I had done to her. Shit! It's like everything I come into contact with gets destroyed, like a fucking atomic bomb, resonating and slowly poisoning everything within a five mile radius. What the fuck was I thinking? Why didn't I insist we use something? I should have known better. I couldn't breathe with the agony of every aspect of this fucked-up situation ripping me to shreds.

It's true, we are too young for babies. We have plans, plans a baby doesn't fit into, and I couldn't see myself as a parent, not now. And to be honest, I didn't know how I felt about passing on my fucked-up genetic material and cursing another life, a child faced with the same fears and possibilities for its future. I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy, let alone a child.

My child.

Bella's child.

Our child.

Bella made all the difference. The thought of a family with her, little brown eyed beauties just like their mother, was the only ounce of conflicting remorse I held. Maybe there was enough good in Bella to override my disastrous DNA. Maybe it was like eye color, the dominant gene prevails. Fuck, I hoped that Bella's kind heart and soul were a dominant trait. One day, I could hope for that. One day, but not now.

"Bella. It's not…that. I'm just so glad you're okay," I mumbled into her skin. She smelled different, sterile, plastic, stale, that chemical hospital smell. Not like Bella.

"Esme, Rose and Alice are waiting outside," I said. "Are you up for company?"

Bella nodded, a sad smile on her lips, wiping her face with the back of her hand.

Reluctantly, I left the bed to let the others in. They followed me into the small room, the space shrinking with the additional bodies.

Alice didn't hesitate; she climbed into the bed with Bella and wrapped her arms around her friend, her tears streaming profusely down her cheeks.

"Alice? What's the matter with you? It's okay. I'm fine," Bella sniveled unconvincingly, her own tears spilling from her lids. Rosalie sat on the edge of the bed as Esme stood beside her, her fingers dabbing at the corners of her own eyes.

Alice just shook her head while I forced myself to remain in control. I had to keep it together and let them have this moment of relief, and ignore all the shit I had simmering within me, all the fears, all the implications of what exactly all this meant. I pushed it away and just let myself feel relived. Even if it was just for this one moment, I felt relieved.

"So, what did they say?" Rosalie cut right to it, not one for sparring feelings. I was totally appreciating her zero tolerance for bullshit in this moment because while I was desperate to know what had happened, I would have waited until Bella was ready to talk about it. Rose doesn't really give a fuck, if she wants to know, she'll ask.

Bella blinked a few times and took a deep breath before she spoke, her voice shaking with apprehension.

"Um…they told me I am anemic and um…I guess dehydrated and...well, they put me on this glucose drip that has all kinds of vitamins and shit in it to help with that. And um…I got pregnant. The doctor said it was like a fluke because of my abnormal periods and the anemia and the fact that my reproductive organs have all gone to shit. She was really surprised that it actually stuck. But my body couldn't sustain the pregnancy and I hemorrhaged…because of the anemia and…stuff." I could tell Bella was having a hard time talking about this. She paused often, her eyes fixated on her hands as she picked at the tape holding the I.V. in place. I couldn't really tell how she felt about all of this. I mean, she said she was fine, but the tone of her voice was anything but fine, and her red, swollen eyes were anything but fine.

"Oh, honey!" Esme pulled a tissue from her purse and wiped her nose and eyes as she took a seat in one of the chairs. Rosalie's hands folded around her belly, her eyes squinting as she tilted her head in contemplation.

I sat next to Esme, her hand reaching out for mine, again comforting me, her eyes apologetic as she dabbed at them with her tissue. I didn't deserve it. I didn't deserve to be comforted, not while Bella was strapped to that bed with needles in her arms and tubes bringing her nutrients as she tried to appease our worried minds. Bella was far from comfortable and I deserved to suffer alongside her.

"It's okay," Bella said, "I'm not sad about it. I mean, I didn't even know I was…pregnant. It was just blood, you know." She was trying to reassure us all but her eyes focused mainly on mine. "It's not like I lost…it, or whatever, because I never even knew it was there. Does that make sense?"

The girls nodded, and it did make sense, but I couldn't help the twinge of disappointment from burdening my mind already thick with self-disgust. Images floated through my mind, images of Bella's belly round with life, my life, our child blooming within her, our family gathered in this room under very different circumstances.

But, in reality, it could have killed her. If Rose hadn't woken to use the bathroom when she did, it could have been too late. Now Bella lay covered in starched white sheets and in a hospital gown, pale and thin, literally drained of life, weak and resigned.

"And that's all they said?" Rosalie pressed, her voice colored with skepticism.

"They're going to keep me here overnight. Maybe longer, for tests and things," Bella responded, her hands again fidgeting with the I.V., picking at the tape and lightly pressing on the puncture wound causing her to slightly wince in pain.

"Tests for what? What do they need to test for?" Alice asked, sitting up next to Bella.

Bella shrugged. "Damage, I guess. Um…they said I was underweight so they're worried about the long term effects of that, so…" Bella trailed off, her fingers still playing with the damn I.V.. I wanted to grab her hand and hold it so she would stop picking at that fucking thing. Instead, my leg began to twitch, bouncing up and down quickly as Esme glanced over at me in concern. I just shook my head, indicating I was fine.

But nothing was fine. Damage, long term effects, tests, underweight, fuck! This could be bad. This could be really fucking bad. I wasn't going to leave this fucking room unless Bella was with me, until we knew what the hell we had to do to fix this.

I had failed. I had promised Bella I would fix this, that I would help her. I had promised to keep her safe. I had promised that I would never hurt her - and I had failed miserably.

A nurse then entered the room to take Bella's temperature and check her blood pressure. She also checked her I.V. to make sure the drip was okay, I guess, and asked Bella if she needed anything. Bella shook her head and the nurse injected the I.V. with an antibiotic and some other things that I didn't recognize the names of, all the while Bella hid her eyes from us.

"Do you need to use the restroom?" the nurse asked Bella, and she shook her head again quickly.

"Okay, don't forget to call me if you need to use the restroom." Bella nodded, turning to look out the window while the nurse continued to fiddle with the machines, checking the graphs on Bella's heart monitor and making notes in her file.

An orderly brought in a tray of food, Bella's dinner I supposed, a broth soup, crackers, red jello, typical shit they would give someone with digestive problems and an eating disorder. It seemed to me that Bella just needed a big fat steak, or something high in calories so she could put on weight and get her strength back, but I guess the doctors fucking know more than I do, so I just cringed as Bella sipped the god-awful soup, leaving the jello on the plate and the crackers untouched.

Dr. Irina arrived shortly after Bella had eaten and ushered us into the hall so she could do an exam and private shit, and Esme, Rose and Alice went to the cafeteria to get some dinner. I paced the hall outside Bella's room, waiting for the doctor to let me back in. What could be taking so long? From my perspective, the longer the talk the more shit they have to tell you, and that's never good coming from a physician. They don't get paid to sit around and bullshit.

I just wanted back in. I didn't like being forced out and Bella might be scared or upset, worried, sad, fuck I don't know, but I wanted in that room.

Finally, the door opened and Dr. Irina walked briskly from the room. Anxious, nervous, pathetically nauseated, I stepped back in.

Bella was still in the bed, her glistening eyes transforming to warm, and smiling as I sat at the foot of her bed.

"Hey," she said quietly.

"Hi," I replied. "What did she say?"

"Just a routine exam. They're going to do an ultrasound tomorrow to check if everything is okay, and they're going to take more blood samples. I fucking hate needles," Bella shuddered. "I just want to go home, Edward." Silent tears fell down her cheeks, dotting the sheet stretched across her lap. "They might make me stay, like, weeks. I can't stay here for weeks. I can't do it, I'll fucking go crazy. And I can't miss school, that will fuck up graduation, and then there's Rose's baby shower. I can't stay here. I just want to go home."

"I know. But don't you want to come home feeling better? You need to stay here to get healthy so you can be okay at home. So this doesn't happen again," I said quietly. I didn't want to upset her, but I didn't think she was ready to come home, not in the slightest.

"What if I can't get better? What if I'm just damaged for good? Fuck! You don't know what it's been like, all these people want me to fucking spill my guts to them, therapists, nutritionists, grief counselors. They had me on fucking suicide watch!" Bella said, her voice hushed yet frantic. "And then there are all these medical terms, all these drugs they're giving me, and I have no fucking clue what they're talking about. They've been pumping me full of vitamins, antibiotics, antacids, something to increase my appetite, something to stop the bleeding. They were going to put me on Prozac, but apparently I have a problem with addictive substances, so they can't even give me the good drugs. Fuck, they make me piss with the door open. I have to be monitored to pee, like a goddamn four year old." I listened to her racing heart monitor, the beeps increasing with frequency as Bella ranted.

"Well, you're never going to get out of here if you keep freaking out like that. They're going to see that little outburst on your monitor, you know," I said quietly.

"Fuck their monitors, this is ridiculous!" she shouted, and ripped the sticky pad from her chest. The heart monitor suddenly flat-lined, the long strained beep blaring in the small space. A nurse ran into the room, and then another as Bella just sat there staring at me, her chest heaving, her eyes blazing. The nurses looked at her in confusion, their eyes fixed on the sensor in her hand.

"It fell off," Bella muttered her pathetic excuse, and I almost laughed at her lack of creativity. Surprisingly, they just reaffixed the sensor and rolled their eyes at Bella's perceived stupidity, and reset the monitor before leaving the room.

"They think I deserve to die," Bella said. "Maybe they're right."

"Why would you say something like that? They do not think you deserve to die," I responded, shocked at her statement, my chest constricting and making my breath labored.

"They do. They think I did this to myself and it's my fault I'm in here and that I'm just a fucking self-absorbed, superficial asshole," she shrugged. "They're right. This _is_ all my fault."

"If anything, this is _my_ fault. I should have…"

"No!" Bella interrupted, grabbing my hand, her cold fingers gripping my wrist. "No. None of this is your fault, don't you ever, ever say that or think it again. Do you hear me, Edward? Do not fucking blame yourself for this. I'm the one who didn't eat and I…I took Charlie's pills. This is all me, Edward." A soft sob erupted from her lips and her breath stuttered as she gasped through her tears.

Pills? She was taking pills? Pills meant for a three hundred pound male? Maybe she _should_ be on suicide watch. Shit, _was_ she trying to kill herself? My initial response was to put my fist through the wall. But that would just get me kicked out of the hospital for good and then I'd have to do something illegal to get back in.

"What…what pills?" I managed to mutter, squeezing my eyes shut as I tried to absorb this new piece of insanely disturbing information.

"I don't know, they were for anxiety and depression, I think. They made it easier to sleep and they calmed me down. I was just going to use them until I could deal, you know, and then this happened and I'm so sorry, Edward. God, you must hate me after everything I've put you through, what I've put your family through. You _should_ hate me." Bella continued to cry, her arm covering her face as she flopped back down on the hospital bed. I took a deep breath trying to calm the twitching in my limbs and the thumping of my heart as it rattled in my chest.

"I'm never going to hate you Bella. I thought I explained that before. And, you know, whatever you think you're putting me through, keep in mind that I am here of my own accord. You haven't tricked me into anything here," I said softly. "Anything I've been through, I've done so willingly. Don't give yourself all the credit, now." I smiled slightly, trying to take some of that guilt. We all make mistakes, it's what gives us the ability to empathize, it's what creates admiration for the struggles of others. It's one connection that all humans share, the ability to fuck up.

Bella had fucked up. She chose not to eat, she willingly put those pills in her body, but I understood why she had done it. I had been there too, so willing to numb the fuck out that I gorged myself on any chemical I could get my hands on. I had starved myself of care, of food, of sleep, craving that emptiness, that state of disorientation, when everything is blurry and nothing hurts as much. It only furthered my connection to her, my desperation to remain entangled, knowing that I was not alone in my fucked up conclusions, knowing that someone else had the same self destructive ideations. It shit me that Bella was going through this now, it destroyed me beyond belief that I couldn't stop it, and it angered me, made me fucking sick to my stomach that I felt relief in this connection to her.

She pulled me to lie with her in the bed, her tears quieting and her breathing slowed, with a soft _I love you_ as she pressed her lips to my face, my cheek, my neck. She murmured _I'm sorry_ over and over again, and I wrapped my arms around her, avoiding the wires and tubes, the constant reminders of her mistakes, and I fully understood why being here was so difficult for her. All these doctors, the medications, the tests, they all reminded her that she had fucked up. And there was still shit we didn't even know about, problems that had yet to disclose themselves, health problems that could be with her forever.

These were the most difficult pills to swallow, the remorse, the guilt, but worst of all, the consequences. It was the most basic law of nature; for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. My mind wandered to when I sought to aggravate mental illness, looking for the release of chemicals that would damn me forever to the confines of a mental institution. I stole, I lied, I took drugs and picked fights. Once, I passed out on the front lawn after chasing a couple of painkillers with a bottle of vodka. Alice had found me face down in the yard, and she had panicked. She thought I was dead. I was constantly hurting those relationships that meant the most to me, leaving my sister frightened and alone, still grieving the loss of our parents and then having to deal with all the shit I was putting her through. And then there was Carlisle and Esme, accepting me back once I gave it all up, no questions asked, no guilt trips, no consequences handed to me on their behalf. Just pure acceptance.

When the love and acceptance you receive is pure and undemanding, it makes you want to be worthy of that love and acceptance. I wanted to show this to Bella, that she was worthy of that love, and I didn't care how many times she chose to self-destruct, I wasn't going to give up on her.

Because I knew she would never give up on me.

…

**BPOV**

_Beep…beep…beep…_

I blinked. Once. Twice. That vile, sterile smell of alcohol and plastic invaded my nostrils as I reached for a familiar warm body. "Edward?" I croaked, a painful scratching in my dry and parched throat as I tried to speak. "Where are you? What…what is…what's happening…" I tried to stand up and the needle in my hand throbbed as it pulled at the punctured skin. I clutched at the tubes taped to my skin and a large hand grabbed at my wrist, enveloping my fingers as I struggled to rip free of the tubes.

"What's happening? Where am I?" My eyes darted around the room, my free hand pulling at my hair.

"You're at the hospital, remember? It's okay." Edward spoke into my face, trying to hold my eyes with his. I was breathing heavily, the memories of the last couple of days slowly starting to replenish themselves, the familiar faces reassuring as I tried to slow my heart rate. "Alice, call the nurse."

"No! I'm fine, I promise. I just…forgot where I was," I whispered. I looked around the once-neutral room now adorned with my tote in the chair, filled with my school books and independent study assignments, my quilt from home on the hospital bed, and Charlie's flannel draped around my shoulders. Alice was curled up in one of the chairs, her hair parted into two French braids. Edward's hand still clutched mine, his clothing wrinkled and worn, lethargic green eyes gazing into mine, scratchy stubble peppering his chin, and then I remembered he'd been here for the last five days, even sleeping in his car in the parking lot that first night when that bitch of a nurse kicked him out. The others had been very accommodating by letting the restriction on visiting hours slide, either because they knew Carlisle or because they felt sorry for me, or they felt sorry for him, or some other unknown reason, but Edward hadn't left my side since that first day. It was dark out, evening, and I sat back down, settling into the bed and pulling the quilt up around my legs.

"Your nurse came in to see you," Edward commented. "But she didn't want to wake you up. She said she'd be in just before dinner and to call her if you needed to use the restroom." I nodded and ran my hands through my hair, my arm sore where the needle moved around under my skin.

Jesus, when were they going to take this fucking needle out of my arm?

It had been five nights that I had been in the hospital, five nights since I almost bled to death from a miscarriage, five nights since I admitted to Edward that I had been taking Charlie's meds and that I was responsible for my failed bodily functions.

When they had told me in the emergency room that I had lost the baby, I had no clue what they were talking about. I was so out of it, so confused by what they were trying to say, that it didn't even register that I could have been pregnant. It literally did not make sense in my brain.

Dr. Irina had come in to introduce herself and to talk to me about some of the procedures and tests they had done in the emergency room. She told me I had miscarried, mainly because my body wasn't strong enough to sustain a pregnancy, but also because I had pumped my system full of pills. I couldn't even pin this one on karma. It was all me. All fucking me. _When all your stars are stacked you cannot win…_

They had a grief counselor come in and talk to me about it, but I really didn't feel grief. I didn't have a chance to feel any type of hope or anticipation or excitement or whatever else people might feel when they find out they're going to have a baby, so I really didn't feel that sense of loss that everyone expected of me. And I was a mess, fucking shackled to a self-inflicted disease that could potentially kill me, so I didn't see how I was fit to be a parent. I was ninety-nine percent sure that this miscarriage was for the best.

That other one percent was a nagging vision painted in bronze and green, of baseball practice and camping trips, and it let disappointment settle into my awareness. I couldn't help but think of what could have been, and the fact that I could have created this unknown being with Edward was unsettling. Dr. Irina had said it was a medical anomaly that I had even been able to conceive in the first place, my body's deficiencies so numerous that it seemed to lack everything I needed to even have a baby. The hormone levels in my blood had indicated I had been pregnant for six weeks or so, and the fact this little mass of cells had stuck it out for so long was fucking impressive. I couldn't help but admire the tenacity of it, I mean, my body was a hostile environment! It reminded me of a dandelion that you might see growing from a crack in the sidewalk; life, bursting and fighting through the confines of the substantial barrier of concrete, searching for the sun, refusing to be ignored, until it's plucked from its undesired position by someone acting under the pretense that a weed doesn't belong on their crisp, clean sidewalk.

I am the weed picker. And a baby most definitely doesn't belong with me, my whole being deficient in the ability to nurture another life.

Logically, I knew this, but I couldn't stop that disappointment from invading. I couldn't help but think of Rose, months into nurturing a life, weeks away from giving birth, and I felt envy. It was completely irrational, but I envied her ability to do this completely normal thing, a thing I completely failed at. It made me appreciate her choice, even the ability to have a choice, to travel this journey and to share it with us, to be so natural and open with the experience, because it was sure as hell completely unnatural for me.

I was also more or less mortified that, now, Edward's family knew we were having unprotected sex. I was pretty sure they had suspected we had a sexual relationship, but now I also truly understood what Rose had explained about herself; people, nurses, doctors, therapists, educated and perfectly decent people were judging me, and even though they were supposed to be professionals, they were really just people, people who had beliefs, faith in the social rules and norms that people had created to measure success, to measure happiness. What they saw in me was a little girl, starving herself for attention, just a superficial and stupid girl ruled by her hormones and lacking common sense. One nurse called it a blessing that I was having to go through all of this, that maybe it would knock some sense into me. I don't know how many times I'd heard the phrase _Why didn't her parents do anything?_ Or my favorite, _If you were my child… _and then insert some form of feeding by force bordering on corporal punishment. They all thought they could just fatten me up and I'd be fine. Okay, I'm generalizing, they didn't all think that. Some of the nurses had been really nice and I could see they were sympathetic. I could see the care in their faces but that just made me feel like shit because I didn't deserve it. I was willingly destroying the lives of so many people, the last thing I deserved was sympathy.

I had been through a shitload of tests. They checked for everything: pelvic exams, hormone levels, blood sugar, thyroid function, ultrasounds, chest x-rays, bone density, they did an EKG to check my heart function and even had to test my bowel transit time, like my shit was some form of public transportation, or something. I had to pee with the door open, a fucking nurse keeping watch so I wouldn't be inclined to puke, and I had an array of professionals striding through my room wanting me to talk about how I felt or why I wouldn't eat, and I made the mistake of telling them it upset my stomach to eat. They threatened to put a tube in my nose and I had to practically sell my soul to the devil to get them to change their minds. Instead, they decided to inject yet another solution into my I.V., this one was, supposedly, to combat the nausea.

Apparently, my stomach had shrunk and that was why I was feeling sick even after eating very little, so they put me on a low calorie diet to start. Also, from all the purging, I had a scarred esophagus, and my digestive tract was shot because stomach acids had been building up, or something, and now I had some reflux thing. My body was, literally, destroying itself, and I had no one to blame but myself.

My doctor was okay, for a nosy lady trying to tell me what to do. Dr. Irina tried scare tactics at first, telling me the statistics about Eating Disorders: half of the people fully recover, about forty percent never fully get rid of the compulsion, and the remaining ten percent wither away until their organs shut down and they eventually expire. She never indicated where she thought I placed on her pretty little chart.

When she told me, though, how much I weighed, I admit I panicked a little. Again, she pulled out her stats, showing me that for someone my height and age I should weigh at least a hundred pounds. This number didn't scare me, it was just that she had said this was what I _should_ weigh.

Should, meaning, that I didn't.

She did show me where I placed on _this_ pretty little chart.

Ninety-one pounds. A prime spot in the dangerous zone.

Now, when I thought about it, this was just nine pounds less than healthy, just nine pounds. Surely nine pounds would be easy to put back on. Fuck, I figured they had pumped about ten pounds of fluids into me intravenously, I was sure I would be able to do nine pounds.

But the next day, they weighed me again.

Ninety-one pounds.

And so my life was being taken over by fucking numbers and levels and charts and graphs, and it was all so overwhelming. There were so many different doctors, all of them wanting to talk about body issues and perfectionism, or fear of abandonment, and all of them trying to diagnose me, hammer me into this mold that some psychologist had made up in the fifties, or some shit. So, I told them. I told them about my mom and Charlie, about how it started with the puking and progressed from there, and they started giving me some of my meds in pill form. And I saw a pattern. I tell them something, they let me off the leash a little. I just wanted to go home and I quickly discovered my way out. I had to tell them what they wanted to hear.

The nurse, one of the nice ones today, lightly knocked on the door before entering the room. "Hello, Bella? How are you feeling? Any pain?" I have no idea why they ask, I wasn't allowed to have pain meds even though it felt like someone was punching me in the gut most of the time. I had the most god-awful cramping and body aches but my initial blood tests had told them all they needed to know about my gratuitous pill popping, pills that hadn't been prescribed to me. They had to pump my stomach in the emergency room. That's how they discovered the scarring in my esophagus.

"I'm fine," I muttered. Edward had taken a seat in the chair next to Alice, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands folded as he waited for the nurse to finish her usual round of temperature, blood pressure, and I.V. checks, then handing me the small white cup of pills.

"We're going to do a weight check tomorrow. One step closer to getting that I.V. removed," she said hopefully, and I half smiled at her cheerful disposition. Yeah, she was alright. I hated it when they wouldn't tell me shit, like it was top secret information or a big surprise they were ruining. It's my body, you know, I should be the first one they tell what they're going to do to it, right?

I choked down the pills, being careful not to disclose any signs of the rumbling nausea burning in my stomach.

"And they're going to do another pelvic exam and ultrasound to make sure you don't need another procedure," the nurse said with a frown. Fuck. The pelvic exam was miserable, I felt like I was being ripped in half from the poking and prodding, and I just detested being all exposed in front of these people I barely knew. It was the most humiliating thing I'd ever experienced.

"Do you know when I'll be able to go home?" I asked her, trying to pry information from her all-too-forthcoming pleasant personality.

"It all depends on you, sweetie. Picking at your plate ain't helping, I can tell you that much," she said as she finished making notes in her folder. Shit, they notice everything here.

"Dinner will be in a few." The nurse gave me a quick wink, closing the door as she left the room.

I ate every fucking thing on that damn tray.

…

Ninety-four pounds.

I inspected the bruise on my hand, the purplish green spot, as I sat cross legged on the hospital bed. I could still feel the monstrous hole were the needle had been. Dr. Irina was going over my test results from yesterday, but all I could do was relish in the sweet freedom the removal of the invading device had given me. As soon as had they pulled the needle from my vein I felt eighty times better. There's just this stigma of being sick that the I.V. was perpetuating. I really didn't feel like I could even get well as long as I was hooked up to that shit. Rose had brought me some normal clothes and I was able to get dressed. I was starting to feel somewhat normal again, slightly bloated and swollen, but so much better now that I wasn't strapped to the fucking hospital bed.

The graphs and charts were out again, as well as the pictures taken from the ultrasound and the results from my blood tests and chest x-rays. They were finally giving me some answers.

And I was completely alone.

Edward and Alice were at school, it being Monday, the beginning of another week in which I would be completing my schoolwork via independent study. At least my absence wouldn't affect graduation, and independent study was actually pretty awesome. I had already completed half the assignments and it was mostly busy work, annoying but easy shit.

Rose was at work and Esme had an appointment with a client, so it was just me today. My stomach twisted in apprehension at the thought of what this doctor was going to tell me, just hoping I was well enough to go home.

"Bella? Do you understand?" I nodded. She had said she wanted me to gain one to two pounds a week and I was to continue taking the multivitamin as well as an iron supplement for the anemia, antacids to combat the acid reflux and this pill that was supposed to increase my appetite.

"And I'm prescribing you birth control to help regulate your menstrual cycle." Dr. Irina made a note in her file, spreading the gray, fuzzy pictures out before me. "Bella, these are pictures of your reproductive organs and heart, and this…" she slid another photo in front of me, "is how the organs of a eighteen year old should look."

Again, with that word. _Should_.

"There's no easy way to say this, Bella. Your hormone levels are below average. At this point, your body has been so deprived that you have ceased normal menstruation. Your ovaries are fifty percent smaller than what they are supposed to be, and the tissue surrounding your reproductive organs has deteriorated and is permanently scarred. Bella, I'm afraid your eating disorder has most likely left you infertile." Dr. Irina tried to say it as kindly as possible, but she could have just punched me in the face.

Infertile. Just one more way I had failed as a fucking human being.

"Bella?" The door pushed open and a soft, charming voice called my name. Edward. He must have ditched school because he knew I'd be here alone. I clutched at my chest, just to make sure I was still here, sitting in this room in this dilapidated body, hearing these words from her mouth.

"Hey." I found my voice and I heard it respond. It trembled and wavered, an unfamiliar underwater garble.

"Edward, if you don't mind waiting outside." Dr. Irina motioned to the door and Edward turned to leave but, like always, I couldn't let him go. He should hear this too. He needed to know just how fucked-up I really was, how I could never give him what he deserved. Or maybe I was just too cowardly to have to tell him myself, but for whatever reason, I wanted him with me.

"No, he can stay. She was just telling me how I can't have kids now. My ovaries are like raisins. Look," I said, my monotone voice oddly calm as I tossed the picture to him. Edward walked slowly into the room, his black sneakers trampling the stupid ovary picture as he came to sit beside me on the bed, his eyes focused on mine as he gently took my hand. His thumb ghosted over the puncture wound, careful not to aggravate the bruise.

Breaking my gaze, he turned to face the doctor. "What else you got?" he said, his voice strong and brave. _"Like a tiny light break in a storm…"_

Dr. Irina let me leave on Wednesday. Nine days, four pounds, one miscarriage, two shriveled ovaries, a shrunken heart, and a heap of medication later, I was allowed to go home. They had wanted me to stay, of course, until I gained the desired nine pounds, but there was no way in hell I was staying in that room any longer than I absolutely had to, and since I was no longer a minor, and I was no longer under any immediate physical danger, I was free to leave.

They had made appointments for me to continue seeing a nutritionist, a therapist, a grief counselor, routine visits with Dr. Irina, as well as a heart and bone specialist. Not only was I infertile and in danger of a potential heart attack from a shrunken heart, but it looked as if osteoporosis may be in my future as well. Osteoporosis! It was like I had the body of an eighty year old.

Edward drove me home, his hand laced with mine as he cruised through morning traffic, some oldie station playing over the radio. He hummed along with the song, sometimes emitting a crooning vibrato, and I gazed intently at the side of his angular face and his bronze curls looping along the nape of his neck and tucked behind his ear. He'd been especially quiet since Monday. He was gentle and calm, sweet in every word, adoring in every touch, and it was irritating as all-fuck. It just felt so forced, like the fucking eggshells again. Don't hurt Bella, protect Bella, save Bella. My heart pounded and I closed my eyes, trying to manage the emotion welling in my chest, my eyes brimming with tears. I didn't want it, this coddling, this sadness, this unease that cloaked my being, shrouding me in desperation and anger and fear. I needed it to stop. I needed it to stop now.

"Pull over!" I shouted, unable to contain the anxiety. I needed to breathe and my hands trembled as a startled Edward skid the car to the side of the road. I got out of the car and walked through the thick trees that lined the highway, letting their cool and fresh scent swirl around my head as I inhaled deeply. I hadn't been outside in ages, it seemed, and the cold air felt divine and icy in my lungs. I heard Edward walking behind me, snapping twigs and crunching leaves, but I just kept walking, stumbling over rocks or rogue roots cutting up out of the earth, and my eyes blurred. When I could no longer hear the roaring of the cars on the highway, I stopped and sank into the muddy earth, my knees caked with dirt as I wept. Edward's arms were around me in an instant and I clutched his jacket, burrowing my face in the damp vinyl.

And I cried. I mourned. I breathed. I saw the vision I had for my future splinter and break away, my heart splitting as the two little bronze-haired beauties disappeared between the trees, their beautiful angular faces blurring and fizzling and fading into nothingness. For the second time in two months I let go of a life I had barely begun to accept as a possibility. I felt it slip away and I was altered, a fissure through my spirit as the ghost of the possibility crumbled away from the whole. I felt the cold mist of morning on my face and in my tangled hair, and I let the sound of the breeze through the tall pines speak to me, soft songs of comfort whispered down through long grasses, the early beginnings of spring blooming in odd places. I picked a small white flower, the five points of a star in the petals; the air still biting, the earth still frozen, but the tiny sprig of life had found a way to bloom, nonetheless. _Just a little green,_ _like the color when the spring is born…_

But it wouldn't last, by nightfall this meadow would be frozen over, and this bud wouldn't have made it.

I pulled my face away from Edward's sleeve, his eyes red and swollen as he shared my grief. I ran my hands through his hair as the guilt invaded me. My fault. My grief became his, and I hated myself for pulling him into this.

"No more eggshells, okay?" I said to him, my hands on his face, his shapely lips pursed as he contemplated my request.

He nodded, and I stood up on shaky legs, waiting as he found his feet as well.

"Okay," I nodded in return, a quick decisive agreement.

I headed back to the car as Edward walked beside me, dropping the little white flower to the frozen earth, leaving that tiny bit of life behind us.

…

Joni Songs Referenced:

_Conversation_

_Willy_

_Roses Blue_

_Little Green_

Thank you for reading! As always, your thoughts are appreciated.


	28. Yesterday a Child Came Out to Wonder

**Darlings,**

Your thoughts are divine, my dears. Thank you so much for sharing.

To lovely beta **n7of9**, I offer thanks in the form of haiku...

reads with a keen eye

these words she does make pretty

robler with whipped cream

Disclaimer: I don't own it…

**CH. 28 "Yesterday a Child Came Out to Wonder"**

**BPOV**

"And it's another diaper genie," Rose said, the fakest smile I had ever seen plastered on her pretty face. She slid the box over to me and rolled her eyes as I tried to control the snorting laughter threatening to ruin what could only be described as the most polite party I had ever been to. Alice busily scribbled down the gift which was from one of Rosalie's coworkers, Jane I think her name was. Anyway, Jane, mother of three, rambled on and on about how wonderful the diaper genie was, and it suddenly occurred to me that life takes on a whole new meaning when the most incredible invention in your life is a bucket for shitty diapers.

I slid the box along the floor, right next to the other three shit buckets Rose had received. Apparently, even when you register for stuff, people don't really look at it. Not that I would ever need that information, I just found it interesting that there was this whole system to prevent this multiple present ordeal and it seemed all effort was wasted. People end up doing what they want, and despite efforts to guide them in a particular direction, they still come bearing a bucket for shit.

I had been home from the hospital five days and already things were as if I had never left. Edward skipped school a couple of times this week to stay home with me. We hadn't really talked much since my breakdown in the meadow and we still hadn't discussed the whole infertility issue, not because we were avoiding it, but we just hadn't had the chance. Someone had always been around, whether it was Esme stopping in to graciously do a load of laundry for us, or Alice hanging around asking us to run errands with her in preparation for Rosalie's baby shower.

Edward went everywhere with us, glued to my side like he thought I would implode or something if left on my own. He portioned out my pills in the morning. He made sure I ate my fifteen hundred calories. He reminded me to take a shower, told me when to go to bed, and asked me a hundred times a day if I was okay. He was upstairs somewhere right now, having made himself scarce when these ladies started in on their birthing stories. It seemed as though my whole no-more-eggshells thing had backfired completely. Edward wasn't holding back anymore, and he wasn't worried about pissing me off either. And I didn't know if I could blame him, really. If it gave him some peace of mind, if it gave him anything at all, I would put up with it. It was the only thing I had left to give him. "_Love is a throne to borrow, pay for the loan tomorrow_..."

Rosalie was opening another gift and I added more baby clothes to the sea of yellows and greens piled on the curved couch in the Cullens' living room, next to fuzzy stuffed ducks and boxes of diapers and wipes, bottles and burp cloths, and some other stuff that was downright frightening. I mean, nipple shields? Breast pumps? Milk bags? This shit was creeping me out. I understand it's natural, it's what boobs are for, but it was totally bizarre for someone as infant illiterate as me.

I was a little apprehensive about the tiny roommate that would be joining us in just a matter of weeks. Rosalie had read a ton of books about babies and what she should expect during labor, or how to deal with colic and constipation, how many hours they should sleep, how many ounces they should eat, just books and books of tips and rules. Don't use a pacifier, do swaddle, don't let them sleep on their backs, do wake them up to eat, each book said something slightly different and I found myself wondering how, with all this conflicting advice, any of us made it through infancy at all.

Rosalie opened my present next, removing the paper from the pink electric screwdriver.

"Oh shit! Why didn't you let me open this last night?" Rosalie exclaimed, breaking her polite façade with profanity and causing a collective gasp from the party guests. I laughed and got up from my spot on the floor to hug her. Esme and Carlisle had brought over a crib last night, their gift to the baby, and it took six of us to put it together, all the while Rosalie cursing because we had to twist in about fifty billion screws by hand.

Emmett had stayed in Pullman this weekend so he could prepare for one of his finals. He had asked his professors if he could take the finals early so he wouldn't have to go back to Pullman after the baby was born. His finals were at the end of May, so he'd really only be missing, like, two weeks of actual class. Luckily they had agreed, but that meant that he would have to learn the missed material on his own.

"All right, let's cut the damn cake already," Rosalie muttered under her breath as she awkwardly tried to get up from the deeply seated couch, her very round belly causing a bit of a roly-poly situation, as we had been so lovingly referring to it behind her back and sometimes to her face when we wanted to piss her off. She'd cuss us out while struggling to remove herself from her seated position, which only made the sight all the more hilarious.

I walked into the kitchen to help Esme serve the two tiered cake, the smooth white paste decorated with blue and yellow swirls. The smell of the sugary frosting was sickeningly sweet as I portioned out the pieces onto plates and Alice served them to the guests in the living room. My stomach twisted at the smell and I quickly poured myself a cup of coffee to mask the sugary scent. Sipping the hot aromatic liquid quickly, it scalded my tongue in my haste to quiet the grumbling in my belly. I had taken my meds this morning but had yet to eat a meal, mainly due to the frantic whirlwind of activity the morning had been, and now the effects of this mistake were making themselves known.

I was going to throw up.

Leaving my cup on the kitchen counter, I made a mad dash for the downstairs bathroom, locking the door behind me. I stood over the toilet and tried to control my breathing as I felt the awful pills dissolving in my stomach and mixing with the bitter coffee. I didn't want to puke, I really didn't. I wanted to just go back and enjoy the party like everyone else. I wanted to _ooh_ and _aah_ at the baby shit and ignore the cynical jokes that had been popping into my head all morning. I wanted to go eat a piece of cake, the confection made to celebrate the bravery and strength of one of my dearest friends.

Instead, here I was, in this bathroom. This goddamn fucking bathroom! A year ago I was puking in this bathroom. One year. It took me a whole year to fuck shit up and I had really done a number here. I had made this exceptional person fall in love with me and now all I could see was the hurt I had caused him in my pathetic attempt to be fucking normal, and for what? It was all for nothing. My fate was sealed, karma kissing my sorry-ass goodbye. This disorder was going to kill me and there was nothing I could do about it now, my body battered and torn, scarred and maimed, and all of it my own fucking fault. I can't live my life this way, constantly battling this compulsion, constantly trying to relieve the pressure in my stomach, my heart, my brain. And what was the point of this struggle when my body was so destroyed already? My head throbbed and the bile rose in my throat, and I tried to breathe through my nose but the pressure proved too great.

I heaved into the toilet, the small amount of coffee I had drunk splattering into the bowl, and it burned the back of my throat, my entire chest feeling like it was going to cave in, hollow and empty as I gasped. It all hurt, my chest, my throat, a searing pain as I coughed, another futile heave bringing tears to my eyes as I swore under my breath. The side of my fist slammed into the wall, the satisfaction of the sting only mildly appeasing the pure disgust I felt for myself in that moment.

I ran the tap, pooling the water in my hands and drinking, the cool liquid soothing the back of my throat before I used a piece of toilet paper to remove the smudged eye makeup from under my eyes. Shit, I didn't even have any fucking mints.

I walked back into the kitchen to find Rosalie standing at the counter, her eyes on me, and I could tell she knew. She probably thought I had made myself hurl by shoving my fingers down my throat, but I couldn't find the strength to even care to dispute it. She was pissed.

"Bella," she started, pure detest in her face and obvious anger in her features. She just kept shaking her head and closing her eyes, her perfectly painted finger nails running through her golden hair. "I'm not going to freak out, not here. But I seriously want to rip your head off right now." I believed her too; with her fingers curled into fists, she literally looked like she meant me bodily harm.

"I know. Can we talk later?" I asked quietly.

"You bet your sweet ass we're going to talk later." I sighed as she walked back into the living room, leaving me in the huge kitchen all alone.

We loaded up Edward's car with the presents, pastel tissue paper, bags and boxes, and four diaper genies, all piled into the trunk of the Volvo. Rosalie sat in the back, her arms folded across her chest and resting on her large belly, her eyes fixed on the trees lining the street, and I leaned back against the head rest. She was seriously going to hurt me when we got home.

Edward reached over to grab my hand, his lips pulled into a spectacular grin, his fingers soothing as they twisted into mine. Guilt dropped like a ton of bricks right into the pit of my stomach, knowing what I was going to have to tell him, knowing that I would be the one to cause that grin to falter. What the hell is wrong with me? Why do I keep doing this to him?

He pulled into the driveway and we unloaded the car, marching the baby gifts straight up to Rosalie's room. She dumped everything into the crib, pulling off the tags and getting the clothes ready to wash. Edward set about pulling stuff out of the freezer for dinner. It was mid-afternoon and the anticipation of Rosalie's "talk" was killing me. I wish she would just get it over with.

It wasn't until after dinner, when Edward and I were lounging on the couch and fully engulfed in a docudrama about Nostradamus on the Discovery Channel, that Rosalie decided she was ready to talk.

She stood at the top of the stairs, calling through the house.

"Bella? Can you come help me with something? I'm trying to put together this breast pump and I don't know how it works." Oh, thank God! She wasn't going to do this in front of Edward. At least she was giving me the decency of a private beheading.

"Um…sure," I responded, shrugging my shoulders at Edward as he twisted his face to convey a multitude of emotions: confusion, surprise, and downright fear at the mentioning of lactation. If I hadn't known what awaited me upstairs, I would have laughed.

I disentangled myself from Edward's limbs and marched up the stairs to find Rosalie sitting on her bed, her hands caressing a fuzzy green chenille blanket. I sat down next to her, waiting for the blade to drop.

"I'm sorry Bella," Rosalie said quietly, and I looked at her in confusion, her apology clearly not what I was expecting.

"Esme told me. About how you can't have kids." Ah, yes. Esme would know. Why I thought Edward would keep this to himself, I do not know. There aren't any secrets with the Cullens.

"I mean, that's not for sure though, right? Like, there's still a chance? If you got better then your body would heal and maybe later you could try." Rosalie pulled at the green blanket, her eyes intent on the soft yarn.

"Um, I think it's pretty certain. There's really no way to know for sure at this point, but they were pretty clear that if I were to get pregnant again, I could pretty much expect a rerun of the last couple of weeks. But they shot me full of birth control, so that's that." I swallowed and tried to suppress the burning in my stomach, the pressure constricting in my chest.

"It's definitely not going to get any better if you keep throwing up, though, right?" Rosalie looked at me now, the meaning behind her question evident in the squint of her eyes. She wasn't really asking a question.

"No, it's not going to get any better," I mumbled as tears stung my eyes, my lip quivering as I forced my teeth into it to try to maintain control.

"It's just that you didn't see how this is affected them, the Cullens. Esme and Alice were a mess, Carlisle checked on you like every hour while you were at the hospital and Edward…well, I've never seen a burning man before, except for those pictures of the burning Buddhist monks, but I'd imagine that was probably what one would look like," Rosalie spoke carefully but I could tell she wasn't worried about eggshells. She wanted me to know exactly how selfish I truly was.

"Look, I'm not telling you this because I want to hurt you, Bella. I love you, but I'm just hoping that if you won't knock this shit off for yourself, then maybe you'll do it for them, for us." Her fingers pulled at the blanket on her lap, the repetitive motion soothing the tears now spilling down my cheeks. "Because it will destroy them if something happens to you again. It will destroy _him_. Do you understand what I mean by this, Bella?"

I nodded, the tears falling more vehemently now, the guilt again heavy in my gut. I did know exactly what she meant. She meant that it could literally destroy him, it could be the spark that ignites the bomb he feared so much, the emotional stress and anxiety a risk factor in triggering an episode in predisposed individuals like Edward and Alice, individuals who have a family history of mental disorders like schizophrenia. Just another reason I was a toxin, just another way I could hurt him. And yet, here I remained, fully entwined in Edward's life, bleeding him dry and giving him nothing but pain and disappointment in return, a dying binary star ready to implode, taking down everything in my path. _"I can't find my goodness, I lost my heart…"_

I was a fucking black hole waiting to happen.

…

**EPOV**

"Come on Bella, we're going to be late," I stood at the bottom of the stairs with my keys ringed around my fingers, tapping impatiently on the doorframe. We needed to fucking go already and Bella had been dicking around all morning. She had cleaned out her drawers twice, collecting a bunch of clothes she claimed didn't fit her anymore and shoving them in a plastic bag in the back of her closet. She said it was extremely frustrating to feel good about any progress when everything she pulled from her drawers hung on her like a potato sack.

I tried to be supportive, telling her they looked fine, but it was impossible not to notice the fact that clothes which had fit her in November now sagged and draped, the extra fabric a reminder of the all the shit that had transpired since then.

Today, Bella had an appointment with one of her doctors, but I wasn't exactly sure which one as she hadn't been very explicit with the information. In fact, I seriously doubted she'd even be going to the appointment if I hadn't been home yesterday to receive the courteous reminder call. And she was flat-out stalling now, claiming she needed to fix her make up. Bella hardly ever wore make up. She didn't need to.

"Bella! Let's go!" I shouted again, another glance at the clock hanging in the living room telling me we were totally going to be late.

"Alright!" Bella came trudging down the stairs, her sneakers thudding against the wooden flooring. "I don't want to go," Bella whined, and I smiled apologetically. I knew exactly how she felt; a bunch of doctors telling you what you should be doing, what you're not doing, thinking that because they had been so thoroughly trained by experts they knew exactly how you were feeling. It was the same shit I had to deal with after my parents died.

"I know. But the sooner we get it over with, the sooner we can go do something fun," I said. It was the middle of April, spring break, and we didn't have school. The weather had been pretty nice, actually, and the sun might even make an appearance today. I was thinking we could go to the beach or something. Things had been so heavy lately that I really missed just hanging out with Bella. I wanted to see her smile, not just her smart-ass smirk, but a real genuine because-I-feel-good smile. And maybe a laugh. Maybe we should go to see a funny movie. I hadn't seen her really laugh in almost a month.

"Alright, fine," she said exasperated as she snatched her coat off the coat rack beside the door and wrapped the red wool around before walking out the door.

We drove in silence to the hospital as she starred out the window, keeping her thoughts locked inside that complex brain of hers. My eyes kept finding a way to look at her, like out of the corner of my eye when I had to look over my shoulder or in the reflection of the windshield, but she just looked so unbelievably sad.

"What are you thinking?" I asked, unable to stand her silence any longer. I wondered where her mind was today.

"New York," she answered. This was not the answer I had been expecting at all. I had thought maybe she'd be thinking about the appointment. I was pretty sure she had a weight check today. She had worn her heaviest jeans and a thick sweater.

"What about New York?" I asked.

"I was just thinking how, _sorry I moved out of state_, is a great excuse to get out of these doctors' appointments," she said with a sigh. I hated that she had to do this, and if it were up to me I would eliminate the whole debacle immediately. But Carlisle claimed this was good for Bella, that it would help her, and that was always my primary concern; what was good for Bella was good for me.

"Look, I know it sucks. I went through the same shit when my parents died, only they put me on drugs that turned me into a zombie, and I hated it," I said, trying to recall that time in my life. It was like I didn't even experience it, like I was just looking in on someone else. Mindless, numb, disconnected from anything that mattered, it wasn't really a life, it was merely an existence, and a shitty one at that. I would much rather put up with the crippling ache of a storm if it meant I got to bask in the radiance of the sun.

"Yeah, well, they won't even give me drugs because they think I have a _highly addictive personality_" she mocked, using air quotes and everything. She turned so that now she was facing me, her teeth digging into her flushed bottom lip as she contemplated.

"What?" I asked, her curious eyes still fixated on the side of my face.

"How did you do it?" she asked. "How did you get out of it?"

"I told them what they wanted to hear," I said, shrugging my shoulders. I mean, it wasn't rocket science. They wanted a certain response, and all their questions and shit were meant to lead me in that path, anyway. I just got there a little sooner than anticipated. "And I got a hobby."

"Right, the cooking classes," Bella grinned. "I don't think they're going to let me off that easily." Her grin disappeared, the corners of her plump pink lips sagging and down-trodden.

"You've had a bit more to deal with than I did," I murmured.

"Hardly," she scoffed. "And it's my own damn fault. Why should they even waste their time trying to help me? They should help someone who deserves it."

"Knock it off. You can't be serious. You have a disease just like any other sick person who walks through those doors. You deserve their help as much as anyone else does," I said sternly. I fucking hated it when she talked like this, her words thick with guilt. It wasn't entirely her fault and I couldn't stand her taking all the blame.

"Did you just call me a sick person?" she teased, a small smile upon her lips.

I pulled into the hospital parking lot and quickly parked so I could give this conversation the attention it deserved. We hadn't really talked about any of this, the miscarriage, the pills, the likelihood of children in our future, it had all just been glossed over and swept aside, and I didn't think we would be able to move forward until we got this shit out in the open. It was like a fucking tick, you know those blood sucking bugs that burrow in animals and shit. Anyway, that's what this was, a tick, burrowing and festering, and we both knew it was there, sucking away. We just needed to light that shit on fire and get it out. That's how they killed it on the Discovery Channel, at any rate.

Bella was still looking at me, her face shifting from amused to expectant to slightly abashed as I turned off the ignition. "I think we need to talk about this," I said quietly.

"What, me being a sick person? What's there to talk about?" Bella's fingers twisted together, her voice quiet in the small space. I could smell the lavender in the dark hair curling around her face, her chocolate eyes large and full of pupil. She knew what I meant but she was being stubborn, so I leaned in to kiss her stubborn lips. I brushed my hand across her stubborn cheek, holding her stubborn face in my palm.

"I love you, stubborn girl," I whispered, and her mouth parted slightly with her sharp inhale as tears silently rolled down her cheeks and dotted the upholstery as she leaned across the center console.

"I'm sorry, Edward. You deserve so much better than this…than me. I might not ever be fully healthy, you know. That doctor said that almost half of people with this never get rid of it," Bella mumbled, her nose inches from mine.

"It doesn't matter. We'll deal with it, whatever happens, we'll deal with it. I might be a schizo one day and you'll have to come visit me in a mental institution. Will you still come visit?" I asked her, trying to prove my point but completely serious in my questioning.

"Of course," she said indignantly. "But that's not the same, you can't control what happens to you chemically."

"Neither can you," I retorted.

"Okay. I can't ever give you a family. You could never have a child with me," Bella choked out, her hands wiping at her face as her tears flowed freely.

"I know that. But to be honest Bella, my genes are kind of already fucked. I mean, what if we had a child and then I developed schizophrenia? What if the child developed the disease? There are just too many risks and until I'm convinced there's no way I could pass this on to a child, they are not risks worth taking," I said quietly, wiping the salty sting from my eyes. "So, I guess I should be telling you that I can't ever give you a child and hoping that you'd still have me."

"Edward, you're going to be fine, you know that, right? I think that if you were going to develop this disease there would have been enough triggers that you would know by now," Bella responded.

"Maybe. Or maybe there just hasn't been a trigger big enough. I don't know, Bella. What is so shitty about this situation is that I could not know until it was already too late." I pulled her hand into mine, bringing it to my lips in an effort to bridge the space between us.

"But you could have children, someday," she insisted. "I mean, shit, guys can have kids until they die. Look at Hugh Hefner, he's like ninety and he has a teenager. What if when you're older you decide schizophrenia is no longer a threat and you want a child? I could never give that to you," Bella stressed, trying to get me to concede, and she had a good point but it was moot. It simply wasn't something I was willing to give up Bella for.

"And it would all be pointless without you. Why don't you understand that _you_ are what is important in these scenarios. I could care less about everything else, Bella, it means nothing if I can't share it with you." I pressed my forehead to hers, inhaling her fresh scent and trying to soak up as much of her as I could.

"I could die, Edward," she whispered, her tears mixing with mine as I pressed my face against her cheek. It was something I had thought of while she was in the hospital. When I had found her, her body lifeless and her breathing shallow and so much blood, I didn't know if she would make it to the hospital. I had to consider the possibility of life without Bella, of living in a world where she didn't, and I came to the conclusion that it simply wouldn't be possible, my mind venturing to the very darkest of circumstances, and self-destruction would be the path to most easily follow. What good would this world hold for me without her? What place would I have here? I couldn't think of anything that would be worth sticking around for. Disease, mental illness, fatal injury, I knew I would welcome them all at that point.

But how could I say this to Bella without sounding overdramatic and ridiculous. I could hardly think it without rolling my eyes at myself, and I wouldn't ever want her to think that she was stuck with me because I'm some freak that couldn't handle a break up.

"I know." I knew this was a possibility and I accepted it as that, a possibility. I'm not going to play heroics and say I could save Bella, I had tried and I had failed. I couldn't make Bella go to her appointments. She had told me no more eggshells, so I had stopped thinking, I had stopped scheming, and I did what I felt like doing and I said what I felt like saying. I put out her pills and made her meals, and she had obliged so far, probably out of guilt or obligation, but I wasn't going to let it become a wedge between us. I made sure she was comfortable and happy - that was all I could do for her now. I knew all of this and still I was choosing to stay, hoping it would be enough but fully prepared if it wasn't.

Bella pressed her lips to mine, her hands reaching up to run through my hair and massage the back of my neck, and I eased into her touch, the tremendous weight of our discussion dissipating as she intensified the kiss. She licked at my lips, slipping her tongue into my mouth in slow and sensual swirls as she released all of her stress into this kiss. It was incredibly erotic, the way her tongue moved with mine and her hands gripped the back of my neck, tenderness thriving in every push and pull of her mouth. She eventually pulled away, placing a few small, soft kisses on my lips before a serene smile crept across her face.

"I'm really late for my appointment," Bella muttered, running a hand through her long hair. "Am I going to get in trouble?"

"No. You're eighteen, technically they can't make you go to any appointments," I told her, remembering that after my parents died, eighteen had seemed so coveted and so far away, and now it was almost over. Two more months and eighteen would be long gone, along with high school and, eventually, Forks. Hopefully we'd be able to leave all this behind us and start fresh in a new place, _our_ new place.

"What? Why didn't you tell me that this earlier?" Bella asked, leaning away from me.

"You didn't ask. I can't keep track of all the stuff you do and do not know," I teased, flashing her my toothiest grin. "I thought you knew everything."

"Oh, shut up. Drive me somewhere fun, you promised fun for this afternoon," Bella said buckling her seatbelt.

"You're right, I did. Let's see, we could do movies or beach. Which would you prefer?" I asked her, turning the key in the ignition and backing out of the parking spot.

"Both?" Bella asked, her eyebrows quirked as she questioned.

"Movies at the beach, coming right up," I responded, pulling the car out of the hospital parking lot and onto the highway towards La Push.

…

"This baby is fucking breech!" Rosalie exclaimed as she sank into the couch, her head leaning against the back of it as she felt her huge, gigantic boulder of a stomach. Emmett closed the front door behind her. Rosalie had just had her last regular appointment. She had one more week until her pregnancy was considered done, and shit, did she look it. I mean, you could see it all over her face, like a fucking neon flashing sign or something, _I'm done_.

Bella was curled into my side and she sat up as Rose sat down beside her, Emmett taking a seat in one of the chairs. He was also done. He had finished his final exam yesterday and driven straight here from school so he could be here for this appointment. He wouldn't be going back to Pullman until September.

"It means the baby is upside down," Emmett said. "So Rose is going to have a c-section."

"A c-section!" Rosalie exclaimed again, her hands pulling through her hair. "I can't believe this. This is your fault, you know." She pointed at Emmett, her eyes narrowed as she shook her blond head.

"What?" Emmett laughed, probably not the best reaction but I could certainly understand the hilarity. "How is this my fault?"

"I don't know," Rosalie muttered under her breath. "But I have to blame someone and since it's your spawn, you get the honors."

"My spawn, huh? That's pretty awesome," Emmett laced his fingers behind his head and Rosalie groaned.

"When are they going to do the surgery?" Bella asked.

"Tomorrow," Emmett said excitedly. "We have to be at the hospital at noon and they're going to do the surgery at three. It was the only time her doctor had available and they don't want to wait because they are afraid she'll go into labor and that would not be good."

"Wow, Emmett, I'm impressed. You got through that whole speech without one inappropriate comment. My baby boy's growing up," I said. He laughed, shoving me in the shoulder. Man, I was starting to get excited! He was going to meet his kid in just over twenty-four hours.

"Dude! I have been dying all afternoon. We were at the doctor's and she was doing the exam and I was totally going to ask if-"

"Emmett! Don't you dare. I know what you're going to say and I swear to God if I hear one more joke about my vagina, I am going to murder you," Rosalie said through clenched teeth.

"Babe, I'm only taking advantage of a highly comedic situation. Come on, it's all for the sake of comedy," Emmett said. "And because I love you so much. I wouldn't ever make fun of anyone else's vagina. I don't even want to think about anyone else's vagina. I love your vagina."

"Stop saying vagina!" Rosalie blurted, trying to suppress a grin as Bella erupted into giggles beside me. "Shit, you're like a bunch of twelve-year-olds." Rosalie liked to pretend she was so much more mature than the rest of us, but I knew that this was why she loved Emmett so much. He made her laugh, even when she didn't want to.

"Come on, Rose! This is exciting, your baby is going to be here tomorrow. Tomorrow!" Bella said, her hand clutching Rosalie's arm, trying to make her see the positive side of the situation.

"Oh, and Rosalie can't eat anything for twelve hours before the surgery, so we want to have an epic dinner. I'm thinking, like, steak and fried shrimp and corn bread and lasagna, just like a huge meal, kind of like a last supper," Emmett said to me, knocking his fist into my shoulder. Man, I had forgotten how physically demanding being around Emmett was.

"I seriously doubt they had lasagna at the last supper," I quipped, returning the shove.

"But they probably had corn bread," Bella added.

"And don't forget fried shrimp. They totally had fried shrimp," Rosalie chimed in, exacting her revenge for the gratuitous vagina jokes.

"You know what I meant," Emmett said, dismissing our attempts to insult him.

Rosalie stayed up all night to get things ready for the baby: she installed the baby seat in her car, packed bags, cleaned the room for the hundredth time, sterilized bottles and folded laundry, even rolled the little tiny socks into bundles before placing them among the other pastels in the dresser. She started vacuuming around two in the morning trying to eradicate the last remaining dust particles from the room, and by the time she had finally fallen asleep, she was ready to meet her new baby.

Bella and I arrived at the hospital about two in the afternoon. It was a Saturday so Carlisle and Jasper were already seated in the waiting room, the two of them looking bored as all hell.

"Hey guys, big day huh?" I greeted them as we walked into the small sitting room. This room gave me the fucking creeps, I hated it. The last time I was here I felt my life slipping away. It was not a feeling I wanted to revisit.

"Hey strangers!" Carlisle stood and I went to shake his hand but he surprised me by hugging me instead, his exuberance over the occasion evident in his public displays of affection as he pulled Bella into a fierce squeeze as well.

"Have you heard anything?" Bella asked as we took our seats, the plastic creaking beneath us.

"The girls wanted to say good luck, they're in there with her right now if you want to go say hi. She's in room 1777" Jasper answered, casually pointing to the set of double doors. "They have her in, like, this holding tank before they release her into the operating room."

I laughed at Jasper's description. He still harbored a bit of resentment about the whole Rosalie situation. I guess when you've despised someone since birth it's a little tough to automatically start loving them again. Sometimes I forgot they were even related let alone shared the womb.

"Lucky sevens, huh? I'm going to go say hi," Bella said, placing her tote bag on the chair and walking through the double doors.

"Uncle Jasper," I said, shaking my head in disbelief as Jasper smirked, laughing at his soon-to-be title.

"It's a trip man, that's for sure," Jasper responded as he chewed a piece of gum, cracking and popping it between his teeth.

"Did you call your parents?" I asked, not quite sure how the relationship had progressed, if at all, since the two Hale kids had jumped ship. You'd think as a parent you'd get the fucking hint if both your kids called you out on your shit, but these people had skulls of steel, thick-headed and stubborn, the very worst kind of ignorance.

"No point," Jasper said shrugging his shoulders and crossing his ankle over his knee. "They wouldn't take my call even if I tried. I don't know, maybe someone else should try to call. I don't think Rosalie really cares if they know, actually. They're like poison, dude, and you don't let your kids play with poison, you know?"

I nodded, thinking that they really didn't deserve to know anyway. They definitely hadn't earned the title of grandparents.

"So you're all set for Seattle?" I asked as I pulled the threads from a tiny hole in the knee of my jeans. Jaspers leg twitched as he nervously chomped on his gum and answered, his voice quick and to the point.

"Yep. I found an apartment close to campus, so no car, no problem. I'm telling you, public transportation is so underrated." Jasper still didn't have a car and took the bus to get to work. He loved it, though, claiming he found all kinds of artistic inspiration on his route. Plus, he was proud of the fact that he wasn't "handing his paycheck over to government fat cats".

"But you guys will get lots of experience with that in New York," Jasper said. It was true, we wouldn't even have a car in New York. Just one more thing to get used to, I guess. Jasper took a deep breath, exhaling loudly as he looked around. I'd never seen Jasper this keyed-up.

"What's the matter with you? Are…are you worried, man?" I asked with a smile, Jasper's concern for his sister surprising the shit out of me.

"They're fucking cutting her open dude, of course I'm worried. I looked up videos of c-sections last night on YouTube. That shit is intense," Jasper said defensively, and I chuckled as he tried to calm himself down.

The girls soon returned, Esme kissing the top of my head before sitting next to Carlisle and pulling his hand into hers, her eyes glistening with tears as joy, excitement, and a bit of nerves bubbled around her. Alice hugged me, her mouth moving a hundred miles an hour as she talked about all kinds of useless shit, saying the baby would be a Taurus, the stubborn bull, and how Rosalie was going to have her work cut out for her. The way I saw it, all parents had their work cut out for them.

Bella sat across from me, her feet stretched across the path to meet mine. She kicked my foot, her sneaker tapping into the side of mine, and I gave her a smile. She returned the grin but her eyes remained detached and my mind immediately went to our conversation at the hospital parking lot. This must be difficult for her, first to be in the hospital again after being contained here for two weeks of invasive procedures, and then for one of her best friends to be having surgery, something which was always distressing. I also knew Bella felt bad about not being able to have kids and the fact that we were here, waiting to welcome Rosalie's baby into the world, had to be tearing her up. I thought maybe I should take her home.

I moved across the space and took the seat beside her instead, and she turned to face me with tears filling her eyes. I pushed her hair behind her ear and leaned forward to press my lips to the soft skin of her cheek, letting my lips linger in her warmth.

"Do you want to go?" I asked her quietly, and she shook her head no, quick and strong.

"I want to stay," she whispered back, the tears slipping across her cheeks, and I used my thumb to wipe them away. She leaned into me with her head resting on my shoulder and we waited.

And waited.

Finally, the double doors opened and a familiar face clothed in blue scrubs appeared, the stupid dimpled grin fucking beaming at us as he approached.

Esme jumped to her feet, her hands covering her mouth, the tears already streaming down her face.

"I have a son."

Emmett could barely get the words out before Alice screamed in piercing elation as she reveled in her confirmed prediction before bursting into tears and jumping onto the chair to hug Emmett. He swung her around, his loud laugh filling the room. He set her down and turned to face his mother.

"Mom," he mumbled, and his face crumbled as he wept. Esme threw herself at him, her small arms wrapping around his large body, and Carlisle rushed to join them. Alice hugged a stunned and obviously relieved Jasper.

Emmett hugged each of us, his happiness infectious as his hands waved through the air while giving us the stats: baby boy, seven pounds, seven ounces, twenty one and a half inches long.

"Lucky sevens," Bella muttered, a tiny smile on her sullen face.

"Name?" Alice asked, exasperated.

Emmett stilled and focused his eyes on Bella, his tone hesitant as he walked over to us. "Um, Rosalie wanted to name him Charlie, well Charles actually, if that's okay with you, Bella. She's really grateful, and so am I, for all the help you've given her, for letting her live with you in Charlie's house, and besides all that, she really likes the name," Emmett smiled as Bella nodded, her eyes blinking furiously. "If it's weird, we totally understand. She has a back-up name and everything."

"It's not weird, it's perfect," Bella managed to mumble, and I gripped her hand, a little stunned by this announcement. Beside me, Bella folded her arms across her chest trying to suppress the emotion, torn between her own grief and her love for her friend, the bittersweet conflict manifesting itself in tears falling from her wide eyes. I pulled her into my chest, whispering _I love you_ into her hair and letting her cry into my shoulder, her body shaking in my arms as I tried to absorb her grief. Whatever she felt, I felt it too. I wanted to feel it, to commiserate with her, and then to rejoice with her and celebrate our family.

Rosalie was doing fine, she was in recovery and wouldn't be out for at least another hour. Emmett disappeared again behind the doors to go bond with his son and I found myself anxious to see the new Cullen, my family a flurry of conversation as we waited for our chance to meet the baby. They finally let us into the room a few hours later.

The room looked exactly like Bella's had, same pasty color palette, same pastel geometric border wrapping around the walls. Rosalie was in the bed with numerous pillows propping her up and an I.V. in her arm. Her face was drained and her eyes were closed, her head leaning back to rest against the adjustable bed. She looked fucking spent, just completely exhausted, and we walked gingerly into the room so we wouldn't wake her.

Emmett sat in the corner of the room, in his arms a tiny bundle wrapped tightly in a striped blanket. The baby, Charlie, was asleep, his plump face serene and his little pink lips pursed, with his hands folded across his chest. He looked like a little old man, all wrinkled and creased, his skin papery and powdered as Emmett touched his cheek softly.

Emmett stood up and handed little Charlie to Esme, her sure, capable hands quick to receive the bundle. She cooed and nuzzled and pulled off his knit cap to expose a fine swirl of honey-colored hair. Alice peeked over her shoulder and commented on his tiny finger nails and ears, and how he smelled of baby soap and how soft his newly exposed skin was. They each took turns holding him, even Jasper, though he awkwardly sat in the chair and let the baby lie in his lap.

Bella took her turn in the chair, little Charlie placed in her arms as he squirmed, his hand reaching out to wrap around her finger. She shushed and swayed, the movement lulling him to calm, his eyes big as he gazed at the large brown tear-filled eyes in front of him.

"Hi Charlie," Bella whispered. "I'm your auntie. Not really, but that's what you have to call me, I just decided." She pressed her lips to his forehead before looking up at me expectantly.

"Do you want to hold him?" she smiled, standing up and bringing him to me. I didn't really know what to do so I just let her put the warm bundle of blankets in my arms.

"Support his head," Esme said quietly, moving my arms into the proper position while I stood absolutely still, the fragile little person asleep again as I looked at his old man face. He had the features, the Cullen features, I was sure of it, and I marveled at the familiarity. The genetic pool really was a remarkable thing, deep and varied, yet all stemming from that paper-doll prototype. I suddenly realized I was moving, rocking back and forth, and I froze and wondered how long I'd been doing that. I looked up at Bella, her eyes like smooth glass, and the warmth I felt in that moment began to overwhelm me.

I wanted this, this feeling of family, of rebirth, the innocence of the budding life before me, the quiet peaceful look glowing in Bella's features right now. I wanted it so badly that every cell in my body, every beat of my heart, every electrical impulse jolting through my brain felt like a lightening bolt seeking the earth. I ached for this. I wanted Bella forever. I wanted her to be my friend, my soul, my very life. I wanted to marry her, in a meadow somewhere, surrounded by trees and flowers as we vowed to love each other always and profess to the world, this is who I have chosen to love and this is the one who has chosen to love me. I thought about my parents and their devotion to each other and suddenly it dawned on me why my mom had accepted his psychosis, why she hadn't left him, why she chose to save him time and time again even though it hurt like hell.

Acceptance. Despite all our flaws, despite the ways in which we hurt ourselves and each other, Bella and I had always accepted one another. I knew she was still sick and there was a chance she might not ever get better, and she knew I might be crazy one day. I wanted that acceptance for as long as I could have it, this life, the next, through heaven or hell or reincarnation, whatever it was that happens when you die, I could care less as long as I was joined with her, my elemental match, cut from the same cloth, cosmic or earth bound, I wanted it all. And I wanted to tell her, the need so deep I felt physically sick at the fact that she didn't know this yet.

I wanted to stay in this very moment, this soft, tiny body warming my arms, my family gathered around us, and Bella finally exuding contentment. This was how I wanted to remember my life in Forks, this feeling right now, and I stayed completely still trying to remain in the moment for just a while longer, trying to absorb it all, the smell of the baby soap, the weight in my arms, the swelling in my heart.

Alice walked over to me and gently stripped my arms of the little life, and I actually startled. My arms went cold, the ghost of warmth the baby provided dissipating quickly, and I had to take a moment to collect myself.

Bella watched me from across the room and I ached to begin planning and creating our life together. I knew we'd never have this moment exactly, but we could have others: waking up in our small apartment in New York, coffee in street cafes in Italy, an exchange of vows in a meadow, unpacking boxes in our first home. And I wanted to start right now. I knew we were young and people would think we were stupid. I knew we'd have to wait a while but I didn't fucking care.

My mind drifted to an oblong diamond set amongst swirling filigree and tapering to a thin band, stashed away in my dresser at Carlisle's. It was a ring I'd seen pulling through copper hair, the plaits folding over each other onto strong swift hands. I'd seen it twirl as a wooden spoon stirred sauce on the stovetop, and glint in the sun as sure hands planted and replanted delicate blossoms that never survived the winters of Chicago. I'd seen it frantically turn a lock, that ringed finger disappearing behind the plank of dark wood as it attended to my father.

It was my mother's ring. And now, it was Bella's.

I was going to marry Isabella Swan.

…

**A/N:**

Break out the cigars!

Joni Songs Referenced:

_Circle Game_

_A Melody in Your Name_

_Just Like This Train_

Thank you for reading, my dears. Until we meet again…


	29. I'm Gonna Blow This Damn Candle Out

Darlings,

Thank you for notes and conversation. It's so very interesting to see the conflicting emotions Bella's behavior evokes. Thank you so much for sharing.

Me and these other swell Beatles-loving chicks are hosting a one-shot contest. Check out info on my profile. All You Need is Love bbs!!

Beta** n7of9** makes things pretty. Thank you for loaning me logic when my neurotic brain starts spinning.

Disclaimer: I don't own it.

CH. 29 "I'm Gonna Blow this Damn Candle Out"

**BPOV**

He wanted this.

The look plastered all over his face was unlike anything I'd ever seen. I had seen so many shades of happy on his face, but I had never seen a look of pure, unconditional love alight his features like it had just moments ago. He looked up at me and I forced contentment into my features in the form of a serene smile.

He was uncomfortable and insecure, his hands visibly shaking as he nervously held the blanketed baby, Charlie, named for my father because I will never be able to do the honor.

I don't necessarily think Rose thought of this as she was planning the name of her baby, but it was true nonetheless. I'd never need to decide on baby names or bedding or register for gifts or feel that flutter of life moving inside me, things I didn't give a shit about a month ago. But now that they weren't even possible, I found myself drowning in a pool of festering shame. I tried to disguise it, to keep it contained, hoping they would all believe my tears to be tears of joy and relief; I tried to celebrate, even allowing that little body to warm my arms, his hand reaching to grasp my finger. I remember Rosalie mentioning this reflex stemming from evolutionary origins, this instinctual need to clutch and grab onto something for safety, and all I could think was, "No, no sweet boy! Not me, I'm not safe, I'm not stable."

But Edward was. Edward thought he would one day lose himself to mental illness. He really believed that he would destroy those around him and he thought he had no control over it. He still mentioned the risk sometimes, and he accepted my raisin ovaries and infertile future because he thought himself a toxin as well, but he was wrong. Whispers of the research I had read came drifting back to me, _a positive, low-stress family environment was beneficial in preventing psychosis and schizophrenia, and family dysfunction may increase the risk of symptoms._ Dysfunction increases the risk. And I was the very embodiment of dysfunction. Edward could have it all, a phenomenal career, a caring and accepting family, a long life filled with love and joy and happiness.

He'd never have this as long as he was with me.

I watched as Alice took the baby from Edward's arms, disappointment and unease glancing across his face before he recovered, his eyes passionate and intense as he got up and walked towards me, his hand slipping into mine and bringing it to his lips, delicate kisses pressed to my skin. He knew that he could never have this with me. He knew it, and now he had two choices for his life; he could stay with me, allowing me to orbit in his radiance and feed off his energy until I eventually destroyed him, or he could leave me. I knew which one he'd choose, but either way, it was safe to say that I had ruined this boy. Maybe he didn't realize this yet, but I knew eventually the truth would sink in. He would feel tricked and betrayed, but he would forgive me. He always did.

We left the hospital soon after, a fine mist appearing on the windshield as we drove home. Edward was very agitated on the ride home, his hands repetitively drumming on the steering wheel as he kept looking in his rearview mirror and glancing over his shoulder. Paranoia began to seep in. _"Were you wondering was the gamble worth the price…"_

Oh my God, what if he _was_ deciding to leave me? What if I he realized I wasn't worth all this heartache and pain, realized I could never give him anything and that I was completely draining him, gripping to the comfort he provided with parasitic franticness? Doubt weighed heavily on my shoulders as I began to panic, a slow steady rise in my blood pressure, my heart beating in my throat, and I struggled to calm myself down, longing for the relief of the little chalky tablet. I couldn't even take them if I had the chance because Edward had eradicated my supply by searching the bathroom, my makeup bag, my drawers, and my tote. There weren't many places I had hidden the pills, mostly in my top drawer and in my purse, and upon finding them he crushed every last tablet and dumped them in the trash. I would have been so pissed if I wasn't so busy feeling guilty for taking them in the first place.

The house was quiet and empty with the absence of the extra housemates, and Edward was hungry. We hadn't had a chance to eat dinner with all the excitement and he set to work making a spaghettini with chopped zucchini, his knife swiftly running through the soft green squash before setting it to sauté in a pan of hot olive oil. He crushed two cloves of garlic with the flat side of his knife, running the blade through them before tossing them into the pan, the scent filling the house with its familiar earthy aroma. Lastly, he tore a few basil leaves into small pieces and tossed them into the pan to let the sweet flavor permeate the oil before adding the tiny thin strands of cooked pasta to the mix. He sautéed for a minute longer and pulled the pan from the heat, separating the noodles onto two white ceramic dishes and adding a sprinkle of parmesan before placing them at the kitchen table.

I picked out all the vegetables and ate those first, knowing I wouldn't be able to eat much. Edward seemed preoccupied and hardly watched me eat, nor did he comment on my obviously decrepit mood. The silence in the room as we ate was mortifying, causing unease to fester in the unfiltered air. I needed to know what the fuck was going on with him, good or bad, or I was going to go insane. I dropped my fork, a startling clatter in the quiet room, and Edward's eyes shot up questioningly.

"Are you okay?" he asked with concern, his eyebrows furrowed together.

"Are you?" I asked back, pushing away my plate and folding my hands on the table, the spot still warm from the hot dish.

"Of course, I'm great. Today was a great day," Edward smiled and I couldn't help but smile back because it was like an impulse now, like when the doctor knocks your knee and you're supposed to kick. That's how I was with Edward's smiles.

"It was pretty spectacular," I said in agreement. I still didn't know why he was acting so distant and my mind was busy playing out worst case scenarios. I didn't know what else to say so I just watched him eat. He twirled the thin noodles onto his fork before sliding it gracefully into his mouth, slowly chewing and swallowing, his eyes fixated on the meal in front of him. This wasn't good.

It was fairly late when we finished dinner and we were both pretty exhausted, mainly due to hurricane Rosalie, queen of clean, that had kept us awake last night. Sleeping had become somewhat of a cherished event now that I didn't have the assistance of the pills. I couldn't just lie down and go to sleep, my brain stewing over every detail of the day's events: the laundry list of bodily defects caused by my eating disorder, my father's face, my mother's words, all swirling over and over behind my closed lids. I would wait until Edward had fallen asleep and then I would go have a smoke on the porch. It helped me to relax, my father's scent swirling around my face as I froze my ass off in harsh elements. Then I would silently slip back into bed, listening to Joni or reading until I could no longer hold my eyes open and the words blurred on the page. I usually didn't even remember falling asleep, just waking up with my face pressed to paper.

Edward fell asleep quickly and I quietly slipped out of bed, pulling a sweatshirt over my head and slipping my feet into my sneakers. I grabbed Charlie's pipe from my dresser and a thick wool blanket from the hall closet and tiptoed down the stairs and to the front porch. I quickly packed the pipe and within seconds it was like my father was sifting through the air, every moment I could remember with him flashing through my mind.

I don't know why this particular memory decided to stay with me tonight, maybe it was the cold wet weather or the smell of dew on the spruce, but my mind was quickly preoccupied with the recollection. It was summer and it was warm, and the soft lap of the gently lulling waves sounded against the side of the small boat Charlie had owned. He later invested in a more sophisticated and complex watercraft, but back when I was eight it was just a dingy with a two-stroke outboard engine. We sat in that fucking boat all damn day, Charlie smoking his pipe and me reading my books and drifting off to sleep a few times, the scent of oil from the engine seeping into the fresh, crisp aroma of the brilliant blue bobbing beneath us.

His line started to jerk and pull and he scrambled to handle the pole, reeling in the line and yanking in his catch, a delicate battle as the taut line buzzed and hummed. When he pulled the large fish from the water with his net, the iridescent scales shimmered in silvery rainbow splashes, the gills flapping as it struggled and wriggled frantically in an effort to survive. Charlie fought to control the large catch, curses sent out into the quiet of the forest and echoing off the tree covered mountains surrounding the large lake as the boat shifted and jerked, and I clutched the side to maintain my balance.

I couldn't stand it, the poor creature flailing in the net. It was still suffering as Charlie used his pliers to remove the hook from its lip, the fish gulping at the useless air. I had seen Charlie bring home fish all the time. I had seen him gut and scale them, pulling their flesh from their bones in thick fillets. I had seen him wrap them in foil and grill them whole, their heads and tails still attached. But for some reason, I couldn't stand this. My eight year old mind panicked at the thought of this living thing being forced to suffer, knowing it was going to die. I kept thinking it was probably frightened and we were causing it pain.

"Let it go, Dad! Please! Please, it's going to die!" I blubbered at him, wiping at the tears streaming down my face.

"That's the whole point, Bella," my father had said as he measured and inspected the fish.

"Daddy, please!" I begged, my tear-stained face stricken with grief. My father looked at me through squinted eyes with little creases forming in the corners as he considered my plea. He sighed, leaned over the side of the boat, and gently glided the fish back into the water, letting the prize that he had waited for all day slip from his fingers.

He didn't bother recasting, he just steered the boat back to the dock. He cooked marinara that night for dinner, and I never went fishing with him again.

"Can't sleep?" Edward's voice caused me to jump, my hand flying to my chest.

"Shit! You scared me!" I gasped, my heart pounding in my throat. Edward sat beside me on the wooden bench and I extended the blanket to wrap around him. His body warmed mine, his clean honey scent blending into the sweet musk of the tobacco.

"Forgive me?" Edward said as he pressed his lips to just below my jaw, his fingers slipping beneath my shirt to glide across the skin of my stomach and wrap around my waist. I closed my eyes, memorizing the way his hands felt on my body. Every time he touched me I felt it like that first spark, warm impulses spreading out from his fingertips and seeping into every pore. It was comfort and ease. It was love and acceptance and care. I didn't deserve any of it, but I clutched onto it greedily, as if at a moment's notice the gods would realize their mistake and steal it away.

"Unquestionably," I responded, my mind still focused on the vanishing memory of my father at the lake, the boat and the trees dwindling from existence. "I didn't want to wake you."

"I know. I missed you." Edward nuzzled his nose into my neck, his warm breath tickling my skin.

"I know," I said quietly. I knew this was hard on him, that he was suffering right along with me, but I didn't know how to make things easier for him. I didn't know what to do to settle his soul, allow him some peace, but like that poor fish gasping frantically to breathe, I knew that I couldn't allow him to suffer anymore.

Edward took the pipe from my hand and placed the stem between his own lips, drawing in and letting the smoke fill his mouth, and then exhaling, wisps of smoke drifting from his lips as he suppressed a stutter of coughs before handing the pipe back to me. I watched incredulously. I'd never seen Edward smoke anything before and I was shocked to see him make this gesture. It must have been certain on my face because he shrugged, his lips stretched into a small smile.

"You're not supposed to inhale," I said, smiling back.

"Yeah, I kinda guessed that," he coughed again and chuckled to himself. "I just wanted to see what the big deal was."

"It's not a big deal. It's just relaxing, like being with Charlie for a second," I said, tamping out the smoldering tobacco and placing the pipe on the armrest of the bench.

"It is kinda cool. I don't know anyone else whose girlfriend smokes a pipe." Edward smiled at me teasingly and I smiled back. It really was a ridiculous habit I was forming. I mean, honestly, how many eighteen-year-olds smoke a pipe, and one that's not packed with weed?

"Yep, I'm one of a kind," I snorted.

"And you're all mine," Edward said, his grip around my waist tightening, his fingers tickling my side as I giggled and squirmed.

"Stop! Cease tickling immediately!" I laughed, trying to break free from his hold. It was futile though, Edward's grip on me was by far greater than my desire to leave his side.

"Mine, mine, mine!" he growled into my neck, followed by a ridiculous peel of maniacal laughter, and I laughed along with him, trying to catch my breath.

"Stop it, you sound like a creep. It's freaking me out, man," I gasped out, and thankfully, Edward stopped the tickling. Instead, his hands pulled me closer to him and he readjusted the thick blanket to wrap it tightly around us.

"Well, we can't have you marrying some creep now, can we?" he said nonchalantly, his words taking a moment to register. Marry? As in marriage? As in wedding? As in, holy hell, did he just say what I think he just said? I didn't even know if _he_ had registered what he had said but I was silent for a whole minute, unable to look at him while I sorted out his statement.

"Marry?" I said quietly, apprehensive to address this topic. I loved Edward and I wanted to be with him forever, but I hadn't ever seen myself as the marrying type, the whole institution receiving quite a bit of slander from mommy dearest. I always pictured us like that Joni song, _"We don't need no piece of paper from the city hall, keeping us tied and true…"_ Edward could be my old man and I would be his lady all my life.

"Yeah, you're going to marry me someday, you know," Edward responded, his voice completely confident despite the slip.

"Oh really? How do you know this? Wait! Is this one of Alice's predictions?" I asked, a little amused at his assumption.

"Don't _you_ want to get married someday? You know, first comes love, then comes marriage…" Edward said. I sighed. I felt a stir of panic begin to bubble in my gut, a twinge of guilt in knowing that I had fucked up any chance of a normal life, and I had fucked up Edward's chance to have everything he deserved.

"But there will never be a baby in the baby carriage, Edward. Do you understand? We'll never have that, I can never give that to you," I mumbled, the mournful ache in my heart still sore. "You don't want to marry me, Edward."

"Like hell I don't." He pulled away, turning me to face him, forcing me to stare into his green eyes and see every hope and desire swirling in the thick color. I knew this was coming. When I saw him holding that baby, I saw the seedling begin to sprout. And now here it was, a fully bloomed idea, beautiful and fragrant.

"And we can adopt, if we decide we want kids," Edward added. He paused, and then he asked, "Do you want kids?"

"What, like now? No! I'm a mess, how could I be a mom? No, I don't want kids." I answered. Besides, I would probably just end up fucking them up too. "What about you?"

"Not now, but I don't know what I'll want in, like, ten years," he paused, probably debating whether or not he should tell me. "I mean, if all the circumstances were right, I might want a family someday. An adopted family," he interjected before I could respond. "Family isn't about genetics, Bella. My genes are fucked. I wouldn't want to pass them on to anyone. But, I don't know, maybe I could help out some kid somewhere, some kid who's hiding under his bed right now. Maybe we could be for that kid what Carlisle and Esme were for me."

My heart clenched as it beat erratically in my chest. Edward would be an exceptional father, he was nurturing and compassionate and selfless. And I was not.

Realization smacked me in the face. I was holding him back. I could not be with him like this, the unhealthy and distorted crust of a creature I had become. That fucking statistic kept ringing through my mind, _fifty percent_. There was a fifty percent chance I could get over myself and Edward and I could have a normal and healthy relationship, a fifty percent chance that we could maybe possibly adopt a child in the far future and provide it with a loving, nurturing home, a fifty percent chance that I would succeed at something other than my uncanny ability to find myself in fucked up situations. The odds weren't that bad, but they weren't great either.

But there was still that ten percent chance that I could die and destroy every person that I loved. I couldn't let that happen. As long as I was like this the ten percent continued to grow and pretty soon, just like Charlie, death would be a certainty, the probability inching its way towards singularity as I let myself succumb to the disease. I would continue down this path of least resistance, allowing it to lead me to destruction. Something had to change, a catalyst, a sacrifice, something had to be done if any of us were going to come out of this unscathed.

But how was I going to do this? How was I going to let go of the only comfort I had ever known, the only thing that had filled my once empty life, the constant I had held onto for so long? And what if I couldn't do it? What if I eventually gave in to my every desire and let that constant rule? My heart ached at the thought of it and tears welled in my eyes as I blinked furiously, trying to keep them from spilling over.

I looked at the beautiful boy in front of me, this incredible person so willing to be abused by me over and over again, and it sickened me that I was so willing to let him. Acceptance. He accepted every fate I had tormented him with: malnourishment, infertility, pills, death. He accepted them all, with every ounce of his being he beckoned me back to him, and I would forever oblige. It would be so easy to just let it be, to just stay right here in this moment, frozen in his embrace.

But that was impossible. In a moment, he will shift, he will pull my body to his, he will kiss me and make love to me, and in the morning I will skip breakfast and his heart will crumble a tiny bit more. I will break him, over and over again. And he will let me. _"I made my baby cry…"_

Rosalie was so right, I had to do this. I had to do this for him. I could not fail. There was no other choice. I was killing myself and in the process I was going to hurt everyone around me. I had to make a sacrifice, a sharp knife swiped right through my existence, obliterating that tether of toxins. I would suffer if it meant that Edward could be happy, if it meant that he would be safe from the vile destruction I had caused and would cause again, and I would have to let this comfort go. Like the fish gasping to breathe and frantically struggling on the line, I needed to release it, remove my grappled hook and set my past life free. All the pain I had caused and the many ways I had hurt those I love, this was my chance to make things right. This was my chance to do something exceptional, to be exceptional for one goddamn moment of my shattered existence.

"Look, I'm not saying now, I'm just saying, someday," Edward said, his eyes shimmering in the dull of the hazy night sky. I let him pull my face to his, his lips sweet upon my own, and I inhaled selfishly, soaking in his scent and reveling in the tenderness I had come to expect. God, how I've taken him for granted!

I nodded in agreement, the tears burning as I let them spill onto my cheeks. With a mournful sigh I whispered my release against his soft lips.

"Someday."

Someday he will have this. Someday he will have that peace and comfort, that sweet, sweet stillness of mind and spirit that he so desperately deserved. I will give him this, at least.

Someday.

…

**EPOV**

Someday.

I almost wanted to go get that ring and make it hers immediately but quickly decided on saving it. I wanted to give it to her our first morning in New York, the culmination of all our dreams coming true.

Jesus, I was turning into such a fucking sap.

Eventually, Bella's body began to shiver and we moved back inside. She pulled the bulky sweatshirt over her head, flashes of downy white and pink before she kicked her shoes off and flopped down on her back on the couch, her arm flung over her head as she stared at the ceiling. Her stretchy shirt shifted to expose an enticing strip of luminous skin, her midriff exposed as I envisioned my hand sweeping across the delicate flesh.

I slowly moved to the couch, my hand lightly trailing up her calf and thigh, feeling every indentation, every tendon and bone through the thin layer of thermal pajama pants. Her warm eyes glanced up into mine, the chocolate irises widening as I moved closer, my hand running over her hip and across her behind. Her lips parted and she exhaled as I slid my hand up her spine and over her shoulder, bowing my head and touching the tip of my nose to hers, her breathing heavy as I lightly grazed my fingers down her arm to her elbow and then to her wrist, taking her small hand in mine. I brought her hand to my lips, adorning the skin with a flushed kiss.

I wanted to kiss her everywhere, feel her everywhere, but I wanted something else first. I wanted dessert.

"I was thinking we need dessert," I said softly, her face a mere shift from mine.

"Oh really? Something sweet?" she breathed as her hands ran across my chest, and I closed my eyes to give the sensation my full attention.

"Yes," I murmured.

"And sticky?" Her hands moved to the waistband of my pants, her fingers slipping beneath the elastic and pulling me closer to her.

"Oh yes," I parted from her touch to gaze into her fluid eyes. "Will you share a dessert with me? If I make it?" I wouldn't bother if she wouldn't eat it too. It would defeat the purpose, the decadence of the dish I had planned perfect for ulterior motives.

She stared into my eyes, contemplating before she nodded.

I placed a small kiss on the tip of her nose and pulled her into the kitchen with me. I wanted her to help me, for this to be our creation that we could then mutually enjoy and maybe mutually enjoy the process a little as well.

"Okay, we're going to make a chocolate ricotta mousse with a strawberry sauce. Have you ever made mousse?" I asked her, pulling the strawberries from the refrigerator. I knew we had all the necessary ingredients, I had gone shopping just yesterday.

"Nope," Bella replied as she leant against the counter, her bare feet crossed in front of her. Her shirt was stretched across her breasts, her nipples perked and visible through the thin fabric, and the waistband of her pajamas hung low on her hips, and I paused, wondering for a moment what the hell we were doing wasting time in the kitchen. _Focus, Edward!_

"We'll start with the strawberry sauce so it can refrigerate while we make the mousse. You can remove the stems and cut the bigger berries. Then we'll puree them in the food processor." I placed the container of berries on the counter and drew a paring knife from the block. I pulled out the cutting board and offered Bella the handle of the sharp blade. She quickly accepted the task, her hand wrapped around the handle as she set to work, her fingers nimbly handling the fruit as she swiftly removed the stems and set about running the knife through the red flesh.

I pulled the semi-sweet squares of chocolate from the cabinet, as well as the sugar and cream of tartar, the acid needed to add a bit of volume to the egg whites, and began unwrapping the chocolate and placing it in a glass bowl. I filled a small saucepan about a quarter of the way with water and placed the pan on the burner, turning on the flame. Positioning the bowl over the heated water, I whisked the chocolate until melted, the smooth confection filling the kitchen with a rich, bittersweet smell, enticing the pleasure and anticipatory neurons now firing in my brain, and I snuck a taste of the smooth decadent cocoa. I removed the melted chocolate from the pan and set it aside.

"All done," Bella chimed, cleaning up the stems and throwing them into the trash. I looked over her shoulder to inspect her work, not that it mattered really, but I just wanted to stand close to her. I pressed my lips to her cheek before I ducked below the counter to get the food processor and plugged it into the wall.

"Okay, scoop up all those berries and put them in the processor with, like, a quarter cup of sugar," I instructed, and Bella complied, the processor whirring about and turning the fruit to mush.

"How's that?" Bella asked, showing me the puree.

"Looks good. Now we need to strain all the pulpy shit out." I dug through the cabinets and pulled a strainer from the back. I placed the mesh over a large measuring cup as Bella poured the mixture through, stopping to squish the juice through the mesh and making sure the sauce was clear of pulp. She looked around for a towel, her fingers sticky with strawberry juice, and I grabbed her wrist, placing my lips around her fingers and trying as seductively as I could to lick them clean of the sticky liquid, hoping I didn't look like a fucking idiot standing here sucking her fingers.

She gasped a little, her lips parting as she inched closer, her other hand slipping beneath my waistband again. Definitely a good sign.

"That is just…um…very, very…," she grinned,

"You're quite delicious, you know," I responded, giving her fingers a small peck before letting her hand go.

"I have a feeling I'm going to be covered in spit by the time we're finished," Bella giggled, her hands tugging at my waistband still.

"Is that a problem?" I asked.

"Of course not. I'll try to return the favor. What's next?" she asked, bringing me back to the task at hand.

"Um, we have to combine the chocolate with the ricotta," I said, pulling the ricotta and eggs from the fridge. I separated the yolks from the whites and blended them in a large bowl with the cheese and some sugar, adding a dash of cinnamon and a capful of almond extract. Grabbing an orange from the crisper, I grated the peel and added it to the mixture, as well as a pinch of salt, running the spatula along the sides of the glass bowl to thoroughly combine the flavors before spooning the chocolate into the large bowl.

"Can you mix this while I whisk the egg whites?" I asked Bella, and she took the spatula from my hand.

Her eyes glanced at my arm and noticed a small smear of chocolate on the inside of my forearm. She grinned devilishly before slowly running her tongue along my arm, sucking where the chocolate was smeared. I watched her mouth move over my arm in full, sucking kisses up to my shoulder, and my swelling cock strained against the constricting fabric. I inhaled sharply, the lush mixture of lavender and chocolate fucking captivating. I wanted to pull her to me, press her into the counter and slip my hands beneath that tiny t-shirt of hers. But there was a plan.

"Shall we finish dessert?" Bella murmured into my ear, her body pressing into my erection, the last of my resolve wavering as her hot whispered breath caused my skin to crawl with hunger. Fuck, what was my plan again?

"Right, dessert. Okay, um, mix the two together thoroughly and I'm going to whip up these egg whites." I poured the gelatinous goop into the mixer and added a small amount of the cream of tartar, and turned the mixer on low at first, increasing the speed as the egg whites stabilized and began to foam. All I could think about was Bella's hands on my dick and her mouth against mine, and I looked over my shoulder to see her whipping the spatula through the chocolate, her eyes hiding a dark sadness as she reached up to wipe a tear from the corner of her eye. Shit, she must still be upset about the baby. I knew she was having a difficult time with this, the constant reminder of her many losses coming home to live with her soon.

Even now, three years later, I still suffered through my reminders. I wondered for a minute how different my life would be if my father hadn't killed my mother. I wondered if I would even still be alive; my mother's fate easily could have been my own, or even Alice's. I would have never came to Forks, would have never discovered my love for cooking, and I would have never been assaulted by a small girl with long mahogany hair and wide, soulful eyes in a grocery store. I wouldn't be going to New York or Italy, and I certainly wouldn't have a future. All it cost me was my parents, their lives traded for this one.

"It's all mixed," Bella said quietly. "Um, I'm going to go to the bathroom. I'll be right back." I watched her leave, her hair swaying across her back as she darted up the stairs. Shit, I hoped she was okay.

I turned off the mixer and scraped the thick glossy meringue from the sides of the steel bowl and gently folded it into the chocolate ricotta until the two blended together to form the fluffy mousse. I spooned the airy blend into some small glass cups I pulled from the cabinet and placed them in the fridge to chill while I waited for Bella to return. I washed the dishes in the sink, and cleaned up the rest of the kitchen. I walked into the living room, pacing between the two rooms and debating whether or not I should go see if she needed anything. I stood at the base of the stairs, ready to rush the bathroom door before it opened, and I quickly trotted to the kitchen, getting the mousse from the fridge and spooning a bit of the strawberry sauce over the top just as Bella walked into the kitchen.

Her face was sallow, her eyes red and weary and a deep pain etched across her features, and I rushed to her side.

"Are you okay?" I asked her, and she nodded.

"I'm just sad," she said.

"Look, if you don't want to eat the mousse, you don't have to. I know this has been hard for you and-"

"I'm going to eat the damn dessert, Edward," she interrupted. She snatched the cup from the table and a spoon from the drawer and I followed her into the living room.

She sat on the couch and I sat beside her, shifting her body so that her legs dangled across my lap. Quickly, she dipped her spoon into the cup, the mousse slipping between her lips as she turned the spoon to lick the back.

"That is really, really fucking good, Edward," she mumbled, another spoonful between her lips before offering one to me. I let Bella feed me the mousse, the strawberry sauce offering a tarty balance to the richness of the chocolate. And yes, it was really, really fucking good.

Bella took another bite, her eyes closing as more tears slipped from her eyelids, and I leaned in to kiss the tears from her cheek. Her eyes fluttered open and suddenly her mouth was on mine and her hands weaved into my hair as her tongue pulled mine into her mouth with gentle slow pulses.

"I…I just…" She tried to speak but I licked at her bottom lip, the chocolate resonating on her mouth. "I'm just so…" She kissed me again, slow and sensual. "Edward, I love…" Lips flushed against mine. "Edward…I…"

"Bella, I know." She couldn't get the words out but I knew what she was trying to say: I love you, I'm sorry, I miss my dad, I'm afraid. There was a torrent of emotions burning through her right now and she couldn't put it into words.

Without warning she crawled onto my lap, the chocolate dessert abandoned as her hands quickly pulled my undershirt over my head. Her hands grazed over every part of my stomach and her lips immediately adorned my chest. She continued to roam and massage, her fingers rubbing into the muscles of my back and shoulders and tracing the lines of my stomach as her lips moved to kiss my belly button and the light trail of hair below. It was slow and gentle, so different from the fast and frenzied fuck we had been getting here and there over the last couple of months. This was love, giving and receiving, the natural balance of things undisturbed as she continued to cherish me intensely.

I gripped her thighs, desperate to show her that I felt the same, that I cherished her in the same way and that we were truly equal in our adoration. My hands slid along her legs and she quickly pulled her shirt over her head, revealing her alabaster skin as she discarded the fabric and let it pile on the floor. I ran my hands across her tiny stomach, my fingers rippling over the small stretch of tight skin as I cupped her breast, softly taking her nipple between my lips and letting my tongue roll over her flesh. I moved my hands over her shoulders, and my mouth found her sweet lips, her full pout upon mine, and I drank her in heavily, touching and really feeling every inch of her as she panted into my mouth.

"You feel so good, Edward, I want to feel you forever," she whispered, her eyes closed as I gazed upon her splendid heart-shaped face, her dark hair curling and disrupted. It was so completely amazing what this beautiful girl straddling my hips made me feel, and the painful swelling in my chest expanded to draw her in, a great gasp as my lungs constricted with the possibility that I could feel this forever.

"You can feel me forever," I managed to mumble as her body ground down onto my lap, her hips oscillating and twisting and swerving as she pushed herself onto my erection. "You could feel me every damn hour if you wanted to," I stuttered, my eyes rolling back as her hands tugged at my waistband. Sliding off my lap, she pulled at the material and I lifted my hips in an attempt to help her. She tossed them aside and quickly removed my boxers. Her hands wrapped around my dick, massaging and stroking tenderly and languidly, her hair falling over her shoulders and across her chest. She bowed to slide her mouth over the tip and then slowly but fully engulfed me with warmth as her tongue bathed and swirled, her mouth moving over the hardness, and dizziness swarmed around me.

"Bella," I gasped, my hands twisting into her hair as she moved along the length, her hand slipping across the skin and adding monumentally to the pleasure now constricting in my back and stomach. Fuck, I loved her mouth on me, and I watched as her pretty pink lips tightened and released, her tongue leisurely swirling around the tip, and I craved the friction, relishing in each push and pull of her mouth. I wanted to taste her mouth, press her skin to mine, her soft satin warmth sliding across my chest and my hips.

I pulled her to me and I licked at her moist mouth and lips, running my hands down her back and over her lovely behind, kissing her neck, her ear lobe, her collar bone and shoulder.

She moaned into my ear, her hands in my hair pulling me closer to her, and I slipped my hands into her waistband, the thin thermal rolling over her ass, and she stood up as I stripped them down her legs. She stood before me now, completely exposed, so fragile and slight, and I marveled at the amount of immense happiness this one person could bring me, my love, my future, my life, it was all tethered to this one being standing before me, offering herself to me, stripped of any barriers. Call me fucking nuts, but in this moment I could see the love glowing from her and lighting her radiant skin, smoldering in her liquid eyes as she impatiently licked at her lips.

"Beautiful, just beautiful…" I whispered, and I pulled her wrist to smell her lavender and cream, a hint of chocolate and strawberry still on her skin. I let her fall back into the couch, her lips pulling into a grin, and I poised myself between her legs and let desire engulf us as we joined together. I pushed into her, filling her, consuming her and being consumed by her as her hands clutched at the tattered afghan on the back of the couch and her head lulled back, her eyes closed, dark lashes on pale cheeks. I lowered my body to lightly rest against her chest, her breasts pressed against me as her legs wrapped around my calves. Entangled and locked together, I continued to drive her into the cushion of the couch, slow and deep, her hips grinding as I pushed back. She trailed her fingers down my spine, she craned occasionally to kiss my skin, she used her hands to push against the arm of the couch, forcing me deeper, deeper inside of her, and she cried out.

She.

She was all I could focus on.

My pleasure derived from hers.

My desire stemmed from hers.

My life enveloped with hers.

I fell against her as her arms tightened around my neck, holding me to her, and I inhaled. Lavender and sweat and chocolate and tobacco…fuck, I love the way she smells.

"Edward, I love you. God, I want to live in this moment forever. This moment, right now, everything I feel right now, I want to feel it always."

She grabbed my face, her eyes frantic as they melded into mine in a swirl of earthly tones, and she smoothed her hands over my cheeks, my lips, my eyelids. "Remember this, commit it to memory right now. Remember this right now, please…" She pulled me into her chest again. "Please," she uttered again, moving her hips with more fervor now, "Plea- oh God," she breathed as her head lulled from side to side and her hair fell across her face, and I pushed it away, letting my thumb slide against her lips as she arched her back, her thin nails digging into my skin.

The slow build in my being forced its way through my nerves and tingled in my spine as I began to shudder and unravel. I heard Bella cry out in ecstasy, crying for deities and profanities, and her hands gripped my ass and pulled me into her, and I obliged, leaning back as she ran her hands over her breasts, pulling and pushing at her flesh as I pushed into her steadily. Her fingers now rubbing at our junction and swirling around the swollen flesh, I bent to kiss her breasts, slow sucking kisses on the rosy skin, our bodies fused together, energy vibrating around us as we moved together, moaned together, breathed together. I felt our breath fill my body, circulating and heightening my awareness as Bella tightened around me and the energy between us changed. I sighed, exhaling into her neck, letting our breath go as Bella arched beneath me. I pressed my head to her chest and heard her heart pounding frantically as I surrendered to the tide of deep satisfaction, letting it pull me under as I tumbled into euphoric bliss, spilling and pulsing inside her, and all I heard was that splendid voice, a quiet whisper slipping from Bella's lips, but the sound resonating in her chest.

"Edward…"

Bella still clutched me, her fingernails pressed into my skin. I rested my head on her chest, her skin flushed and damp, and her hands pulled through my hair and sent shivers down my spine and over my body.

"Can we have dessert every night in New York?" I asked, my head moving with her as she breathed, the rise and fall making me sleepy.

"We can have whatever you want," Bella said, kissing the top of my head with a long press of her lips to my scalp. I shifted to lie next to her with my back against the velvet couch, pulling her into my chest and wrapping my arms around her. I pulled the afghan from the back of the couch and tucked it around us, the scratchy yarn harsh on our naked bodies.

"Can we get a hammock? I've always wanted a hammock," I asked, and Bella giggled, her body shaking in my arms.

"And one of those chairs that looks like a hand? Those are so cool," Bella added. The cold weather seeped in through the drafty windows, forcing us to the warmth provided by our pajamas but we resumed our curled up position on the couch. She eventually fell asleep, her back pressed into my chest as I drew patterns on her arm. I didn't want to wake her so I wound the afghan around our bodies, a holy and threadbare cocoon of comfort and peace.

…

Bright light streamed through the open drapes of the living room, the yarn of the afghan itchy on face. I stretched my arms, my body stiff from sleeping on the old couch, and I rolled over, noticing the absence of her warm body, and I groaned and clutched the crocheted blanket instead.

I sat up and looked around me. The house was completely silent, the eerie stillness vibrating in my ears. I checked the porch, expecting to find Bella with her pipe and smoke swirling around her face. It was empty. I stood on the porch for a long time, staring at the spot where Bella should be, my mind ranting at me, but I ignored it, the sun a yellow haze as I walked back into the house.

That's when I saw it.

An envelope lying on the coffee table, my name looped across the front in dark black ink.

_Edward_.

I ignored it.

My legs wobbled beneath my body slightly, that fucking envelope visible from every corner I paced.

But I refused to see it.

I walked into the kitchen and looked around the room Bella's tote was missing from its place on the back of the chair.

Maybe she went to the store. Maybe she's getting breakfast. Maybe she ran out of milk.

I checked the fridge to find a whole gallon sitting on the shelf and I stared into the cold box for a good while before I let the door shut and peeked out the window to find her truck still in the driveway.

I trudged up the stairs and stood in the doorway of Bella's room. The bed was made, the room pristine and vacant. It looked as if no one lived in this room. It looked as if no one had _ever_ lived in this room. No stacks of books, no mp3 player on the nightstand, no cherrywood pipe on the dresser. Nothing.

I walked into the room and opened the top drawer of the dresser, my mind a vacant, gaping hole, my fingers shaking as the drawer easily slid out.

Empty.

And the next.

Empty.

And the next.

Empty.

I stared at the empty drawers, little pink rosettes dotting the yellowed liner, the edges curled with age, and I let the panic and fear seethe through my body, my blood pumping at a furious pace. I yanked the drawer from the dresser and flung it against the wall where it splintered into large pieces of cracked wood, the sound of my life crashing and clattering to the floor.

She left me nothing.

She left me.

She left.

She.

…

**A/N**

Joni songs referenced:

_The Last Time I saw Richard _(God, I love this song)

_River_

_My Old Man_

_The Midway_

Thank you for reading, my lovelies.


	30. Her Voice Still Haunts You

**Darlings,**

Thank you readers for sharing your thoughts. I'm so thankful to be able to share this story with you. The end is quickly approaching and I'm still so very humbled and amazed at your dedication to these characters, despite how difficult it is to read sometimes. I'm carefully crafting these last chapters and may not be able to respond to reviews. Please know I read them all and appreciate your honesty.

Need more details for The Beatles fanfic contest? Links are on my profile!

Amers is my window into all things psychological. Thank you lovely for taking the time to answer my questions.

The charismatic n7of9 is beta. You're a genius and I love you. Thank you from the spud.

**CH 30- **_"Her Voice Still Haunts You"_

**EPOV**

I stared at the long line of workers meandering their way through the pheromone path they had created along the polished wood of the coffee table, the remains of dessert calling to the foraging society. They swarmed around the dish, climbing and pillaging, each one frantic with purpose and drive, fueled by desire to fulfill their given lifelong task and obsessed by their unanimous goal: survival. Find food or die.

I laughed at their stupidity, a quiet internal chuckle. Stupid fucking ants. This is their life, this is their existence, a trail leading them to a three-day-old cup of leftover chocolate mousse, when there really was no point. No matter how many times they cycled back and forth along the path, Rosalie was still going to come along eventually and douse them with poison. And they'll all be dead.

My chuckle turned into gasps and I felt it seizing again, simmering and pulling and gaping, the huge fucking hole in my chest where _she_ should be. It all flashed through my head like some sick, demented slideshow of the past year of my life: her lips, her scent, her touch.

And then, nothing.

Nothing but a fucking envelope I didn't have the guts to open.

For three days I have sat on this fucking couch, leaving it only to take a piss once in a while. I haven't eaten, I haven't slept, I haven't wanted to breathe. Unfortunately, the body takes care of that one on its own, and so I just waited, thinking that maybe she'd come back, that this couldn't be happening, and begging for some kind of reprieve from the constant fucking turmoil that was my life.

And so I sat.

Begging for her.

Her lips, her scent, her touch, please, please, please.

Nothing. Nothing but a fucking envelope.

I sat on the shitty old couch watching the ants accumulate, the envelope glaringly bright. I refused to open it and instead lingered in parchment purgatory, the possibility of what might-be more enticing than the definitive answer I would surely find scrawled across the page. I already knew why she left, I didn't need to read it.

Bella had lived internally all her life, protecting herself, medicating herself, trying to offset the erratic influence of her disgusting mother, trying to find self-worth when all she knew was abandonment. Bella had been battling these external factors internally since she was ten-years-old. She was tired. She didn't give up on me, she gave up on herself.

I should have seen this coming, I really should have. I knew she felt like a failure, like she had failed me. She carried that guilt, affixed it to her very soul, and wouldn't let anyone else share the burden. Damn! I should have taken it from her. I should have paid more attention. I should have done something more.

She'd had some pretty heavy blows to recover from; losing her father and then losing a baby only to be told she will never get a chance at having another, it was all too much for her. It didn't help that Rose had decided to name her kid Charlie. Rose was just trying to do something nice and it was a very gracious way to celebrate Charlie, but it must have ripped through Bella and I hadn't even noticed. I was too busy making fucking mousse and thinking about New York to even recognize her distress for what it was. God! I'm such a fucking asshole. And now she's gone, and alone, and I can't help her. Panic started to expand in my chest again. I can't protect her, I can't save her, I can't _love_ her…

_I need her to come back. I need her. None of this makes any sense without her. _I_ don't make sense without her. _

I heard a car pull into the driveway and I sighed. It was them. I didn't want to see them, any of them. They'd open that letter and then I'd see her, her handwriting, her liquid chocolate eyes, her dark hair striking against her pale heart-shaped face, and those lips, those fucking lips…

I suppressed another wave of panic as bile rose in the back of my throat and I clutched the couch for support, the splintering in my head causing dizziness to invade. I closed my eyes and still saw the line of ants marching across my lids while little quasars of light interrupted their steady stride. My body was exhausted, used and tormented, my mind battered beyond belief, and I pulled at my hair, knocking my fists into my head in an attempt to stop the pounding in my brain.

The doorknob jostled, it was unlocked. I knew it was them but I couldn't snuff out that little spark of hope.

The door opened and my sister bustled through the door carrying an armload of Rosalie's shit.

"Hey, Edward!" she said excitedly as she marched up the stairs without a second glance. Jasper followed behind her, his arms full as well, but as soon as he saw me he stopped in the foyer. He eyed me carefully as he stepped into the living room, placing the packages on the floor and shoving his hands in his pockets. His eyes drifted to the ants on the table, and then he saw the envelope. His eyes darted to mine. He knew. Fucking intuitive bastard!

He held my gaze until I looked down at my hands on my lap.

Emmett helped Rosalie through the door with one hand around her waist and the other carrying little Charlie in his carrier seat thing. He led her to one of the chairs and gently helped her ease into the seat.

"Hey," she muttered as she held her stomach, adjusting herself in the big cushy chair.

"Whoa! Shit, look at all the ants! Do you have spray?" Emmett asked, putting down the carrier next to Rosalie's chair. The baby was sleeping, his tiny head rolled to the side and his little lips pursed.

"Don't use the spray, use Windex or something. That poison shit is bad for the baby," Rosalie said. "Edward, what's the matter with you?"

"Where's Bella?" Alice asked, her black boots clunking down the stairs. My eyes were glued to the envelope on the table, my leg bouncing in agitation, my heart pounding in my throat, that hole in my chest gaping, widening, flooding.

"Edward…where is she?" Alice's soft voice trembled as her eyes followed mine to the letter perched on the table. The rectangle seemed to swell and grow bigger and bigger until Emmett reached down to touch it.

"No!" I shouted. His hand about to touch that letter, my letter, caused something in my head to snap. "Don't. Don't fucking touch it," I said through clenched teeth.

"Edward, dude, it's okay. I'm just going to see what it says," Emmett said calmly as his hand slowly and gently reached down to pick up the white envelope, and I growled at his fingers wrinkling the spotless paper.

"Emmett, do not fuck with me right now. Put it down." He was ruining it, his big fucking clumsy hands were ruining it, the paper rustling and creasing where his fingers had been. It was mine. It was all I had left of her and he was fucking defiling it.

"You need to read it. She wanted you to read it. There might be a good reason for-"

_No!_ _Don't say it, don't you fucking say it._ I was quickly on my feet and charging toward him, his face apologetic and startled. Rosalie screamed as Jasper grabbed my arm, coming between my cousin and myself. I wasn't going to hurt him or anything, I just wanted the letter.

"Give it to him," Alice gasped at Emmett, tears spilling over her cheeks. Jasper moved to comfort her but she moved away from him and wrapped her arms around me instead. My arms hung at my sides while hers wrapped around my waist, her earthy smells swirling around me, herb and spice and tobacco.

Emmett held the letter out and I hesitated in taking it from him. I didn't want to feel it, it would be real if I felt it, if I felt the crisp paper between my fingers. I didn't want this to be real yet, I didn't want it to be real ever, but I carefully took the envelope from his hand.

Alice pulled away and sat on the couch, her arms wrapped around her body as she sobbed into her shoulder.

My eyes blurred as I ran my fingers over her looped handwriting and I imagined for a moment it was her. I imagined silk under my fingers, the feel of her in my arms, and I craved more. Shaking, my hands pulled at the corner of the envelope and made a jagged tear along the crease. I pulled out the slip of paper, the black ink thick and smeared from splattered tears on the page, and I couldn't distinguish if they were hers or mine.

_Edward,_

_I love you. I am so sorry. Please understand, this is the only way I could be sure that you would get the life you deserve. I'm so very, very sorry to do it like this, but I wouldn't have the strength otherwise. _

_Please, please don't come after me. It's not what I want. I'm not good for you and I've taken advantage for far too long. You have saved me more than once and I can't keep asking that of you. It's not fair, it's not right and I hate myself for the pain I've caused. Thank you for all that you have done, all that you have given me. Please, I beg you, let me give you this freedom in return. No guilt, no regrets, no what ifs. _

_Please tell everyone I'm sorry and that I love them, especially Alice. I can't bear it if anyone else has to hurt because of me, especially her. _

_Edward, this is important. You must go to New York. This is the only thing I can ask of you now, and I know I haven't the right to ask for anything but please, do not give up on yourself. If you loved me at all, please, you have to go. For me. _

_I love you. Forgive me._

_Bella_

I let the paper fall from my hand, the letter landing on the parade of ants and sending them into a panicked frenzy.

"Freedom. She wants me to be free," I choked out, pressing my palms into my soggy eyes and my hair and pulling sharply. There wasn't anything in that letter that I hadn't suspected. I succumbed to the pain. I felt the loss, the sob in my chest gasping, and I didn't recognize my own voice, the wretched sound choking in my throat as I felt the panic-bubble finally explode.

My head seared again and I pounded at my forehead. Two fists pounding against my skull. Stupid Edward. Stupid, stupid, stupid. How could I have been so blind? How could I let this happen? How could she do this to me, to us, to our plans? How could she just give it all up? Didn't she care what I wanted? Didn't she care what I thought? I liked being tied to her. I would save her over and over again, I wanted that shackle binding me to her always. Anger burned in me, the frustration turning to fury as I looked for someone to blame, but the truth quickly hit me in the fucking face.

This was my fault. I pushed her too hard. I had frightened her with all the talk about marriage and adoption, and she wasn't ready. I had no one to blame but myself.

I am such a fucking idiot. I disgusted myself, I wanted to disappear, I wanted to forget, I wanted this all to be over.

And I wanted the bomb. Numb, delusional, trapped, I needed it. The room swayed around me and my eyes came to rest on the dish, that fucking chocolate mousse still calling to those damn greedy ants. With shaky hands, I picked up the shallow bowl, a few of the pests crawling onto my skin. I watched them as they tickled my hand, their tenacious spirit still searching and mocking me, and I heaved the stained bowl against the wall.

The room erupted around me and I saw my family gliding gracefully, like in underwater slow motion, as the shattered pieces of my future chimed against the wooden floor. Emmett and Jasper floated toward me as I looked for something else to destroy: television, lamp, clock, they would all suffice. Rosalie struggled to stand, crouching protectively over the now-wailing infant, and Alice dashed to her side.

I grabbed the next thing I could reach, destruction still my priority, and I settled my hand on the neck of the lamp just as Emmett's massive shoulder collided with my chest and we toppled to the ground. The impact knocked the wind out of me and forced the lamp from my fingers, and it shattered against the hardwood floor. Language was indiscernible, a symphony of muffled screams and shouting as Jasper picked me up off the ground and dragged me toward the door as Emmett scrambled to his feet. Jasper shouted at Emmett and held his hand up in protest, and Emmett backed up. Adjusting his shirt, he moved to check on his family, the baby now in Rosalie's arms. Alice hurried toward us as Jasper continued to drag me onto the porch, my exposed back scraping against the metal doorjamb and then against the cold concrete, tearing at my skin, the abrasions sending stinging pangs down my spine.

"Edward, look at me. Come back." Alice grabbed my face, her green eyes swollen and red, and I struggled against her hands, my muscles straining as I tried to break free of Jasper's grip.

"I'll let you go when you relax," Jasper said calmly, and I instantly resigned, heaving and panting as I rolled to press my forehead to the wet cement, trying to stifle the urge to vomit as my whole body shook with devastation. Alice knelt beside me and put her arms around my waist and helped me to my feet. I sobbed against her small frame as she shared my grief with her own tears on her cheeks. Jasper, running his hands through his hair, watched us as he caught his breath. I couldn't stand for them to see me like this, broken, shattered, like that dish smashed against the wall.

Emotions pummeled my being: shame, guilt, fear. My mind was a hurricane of confusion. I saw my sister's distorted face before me and knew I couldn't let her see me collapsing in on myself. A dying star dense with despair. I had to get away from them.

I pushed her away and stumbled down the short steps, away from my family, away from that house, away from that letter, and I ran. Her voice sounded out through the quiet street, panicked and desperate, but I ignored her in my craving for an escape.

I ran as my heart beat in my chest, my thoughts incoherent and fading, the rhythmic hammer in my brain loud and invasive and dulled only by the sound of my bare feet hitting the pavement. The ground was ice beneath me and the concrete quickly turned to needles, sharp pangs driving through my heels and up my shins, the flannel pajama pants allowing the cold weather to bite at my muscles. I was only wearing a t-shirt but sweat began to dew on my forehead and scalp. The muscles in my legs seized and I faltered in my step and tripped on an uneven lip in the sidewalk. I fell, my arms flailing out to absorb the impact, and I felt the agonizing pain jolt up my arms as my face and shoulder ground into the cement.

My first inclination was to get up and keep running, but I hurt. Everywhere, everything hurt. My feet were numb and my body shook as I lay on the wet sidewalk, gasping and out of breath, my thin clothing quickly soaking up the moisture. My shirt was ripped where my shoulder had hit the pavement and I had a thick, tender scrape on my skin and dots of blood where the gravel had ground into my flesh. I felt the side of my face, my cheek course from the abrasion, and I winced as I touched the exposed spot. I just wanted to go home.

But my home was gone. I didn't know where I fit in now, in this family, in this town, in this world. I was like a stranger in my own skin and I had no idea what to do. I tried to remember a time when I didn't have her with me, when I didn't define myself by her. I tried to remember who I was before her, when I was satisfied with the void and fulfilled by the emptiness.

But I was gone. That person no longer existed. I had to start new, cope as best I could, and there were only two ways that I knew how to cope: sautéing and sedatives. And I sure as hell didn't feel like cooking.

Just as I was picking myself up off the sidewalk, a familiar silver Volvo narrowly missed the curb and screeched to a halt beside me.

"Get in," Alice ordered, and I obliged because, really, I had nowhere else to go.

"Jesus! What the hell did you do? You're a mess!" She turned up the heater and I ran my hands over the vents, the warmth beginning to thaw my frozen flesh.

"I felt like running," I muttered. "Where are you taking me?"

"We're going to see Carlisle." She spoke in a low calm voice but her hands gripped the steering wheel. "When? When did she-"

I sharply turned my head, trying to convey the deep, deep disinterest in talking about this right now, but she just sighed.

"This isn't just your loss, Edward," Alice mumbled. "I know it's not the same but I love her too."

I ran my hands through my hair, my shoulder aching as I rest my head in my hands. I didn't want to think about all this, I didn't want to talk about it or share it with anyone. Just like the letter, the grief was mine, the pain was mine, the truth was mine.

"Please? Edward, please?" Alice begged, her hand wiping at her face. I sighed. As much as I wanted to keep this all to myself, I knew Alice was right. This was her grief too, and she was obviously in pain. She may as well know the truth.

"She left on Sunday morning. I don't know what time, but it was after one and before eight. I woke up and she was-" I swallowed. I couldn't say it.

"Three days ago? Why didn't you call us?" Alice asked, exasperated.

I didn't answer. It didn't really matter. What could they have done? Track her down? Follow her scent? I didn't even know where she would go. I had thought maybe she would go to see her mother, but I didn't know why the fuck she would want to do that. She had cash, she could go anywhere.

Graduation was only a month and a half away. She would still need to graduate from high school. I hung my head, all our plans ripping through me again and again. _New York, my mother's ring, for as long as you both shall live…_. I couldn't breathe as the reality settled in my chest and tightened around my heart and lungs. I needed air and my numb fingers searched for the switch on the door, frantically trying to roll down the window. I couldn't find it so I tried to open the door instead, desperate for oxygen that the small confines of the car was not offering.

"Edward! Stop! What the hell are you doing?" Alice swerved the car into the gravel ditch on the side of the highway.

"I can't breathe Alice, can you roll down the fucking window or something?" She stared right through me, her chest heaving as she pressed the button that operated the window. Cool air flooded the space and I gulped it in, filling my lungs as it cooled my chest.

I leaned back against the headrest, closing my eyes and letting the cold invade. Alice said nothing as she pulled the car back onto the highway.

She parked in the driveway of the big white house and I looked up at the large building, a place I once called home. I didn't know if I could do it again.

I knew why Alice was bringing me to Carlisle. She was worried. Stressful situations really aren't good for us, people like Alice and I, people predisposed to brain dysfunction. It can be a trigger, allowing that influx of chemicals to alter everything, making way for a sweeping paranoia and crippling psychosis that would take over and consume everyone around us.

I laughed, the sound of my voice filling the dead air. Was it happening already and I hadn't even noticed? I didn't feel any different, aside from the devastating crater in my life where _she_ had been. Maybe Carlisle would put me on meds again, and I wouldn't fight him this time. I longed for the numbness now.

As soon as we entered the house, Carlisle and Esme were upon us. Someone must have called them. Esme wasted no time and immediately pulled me into her arms, inspecting the abrasions on my face and shoulder. She dragged me into the kitchen and forced me into a chair, Carlisle vanishing up the stairs to get his bag. Esme pressed a cool washcloth to my face, brushing the hair from my eyes before delicately cradling my cheek. I could see the distress in her face, her eyes wrought with worry, her lips drawn tight, and I had to look away. I always knew this would kill them.

Carlisle returned with antiseptic and he dabbed the liquid onto my skin. I let it burn, I didn't flinch, I accepted the biting sting and felt the pain as the alcohol seeped into my broken skin. The throbbing in my heart eased at this pain, and I felt myself able to relax as Carlisle tended to the scrapes.

Not a word was said the entire time and I almost drifted off to sleep right there, sitting at the kitchen table. They didn't know what to say. I didn't know what to say. I was depending on Carlisle to figure shit out, to tell me what to do. I didn't want to think anymore and I was handing myself over to him, putting myself fully in his care. Drugs, house arrest, mental institution, it didn't matter. _I_ didn't matter; whatever they decided, I would accept.

Finally, Carlisle spoke in a calm and quiet voice as he packed up his things. "Edward, it seems we have some things to discuss. I would like you to get some rest first so you are able to make sound and informed decisions. You need to sleep, you need to eat." He placed his hand on my chest, directly over my heart. "This…cannot heal if you aren't taking care of your most vital needs first, do you understand?"

I nodded. I knew this. This was like Chicago all over again.

No. This was worse than Chicago. Everything I remembered about Chicago was tinged with dread and unease; my father's disease, my mother's detrimental devotion, their sham of a life and horrific irony of a death, black and white and gray, blurred and faded, the details indistinguishable from the whole.

But she, she was bright red tomatoes and green basil mixed with olive oil and garlic. She was sugared pink berries spooned over crisp white sponge cake. She was smooth chocolate mousse drizzled with strawberry glaze. She was lavender and mahogany, earth tones and ivory and blushes. She was vibrant hues splashed across a monochrome existence, igniting the sky and the earth and blazing her prismatic path through my universe, leaving a smoldering smear of heavenly color behind.

She was my happiness, a love I couldn't shelter, a love I couldn't protect, a love I was never meant to have. I had always said I would accept her for as long as I could, until summoned by the confines of mental disease. I thought that by the time she left me, I wouldn't recognize the pain, that I would be too preoccupied with psychosis to realize what I had lost. I thought I would be gracious and let her go, appeased with the time I was allotted because I knew I was more of a hazard to her than anything else on this planet.

But this was unlike any hell I'd ever known, knowing she was out there somewhere, drowning in guilt and harboring self-hatred and slowly wasting away to nothing, and knowing that there was nothing I could do about it. Succumbing to the solitude and distorted reality of schizophrenia would be a fucking relief compared to this.

I walked the familiar stairs and head straight into the messy room on the second floor. I knew where Alice kept it; a small cedar box by her bed with Botticelli's Birth of Venus glazed onto the lid. She was still down there giving Carlisle and Esme all the gritty details, so I didn't even bother to be discreet. I opened the box, an astounding array of greens and browns wrapped in suffocating plastic. I sort through the ziplock bags until I found what I was looking for. I clutched the small baggie which housed four carefully crafted joints and snagged one of her pink lighters before trudging upstairs to my old bedroom.

Once inside, I barricaded the door and opened my window and settled into the leather couch before pulling one of the joints from the bag. I brought it to my nose, the organic bitter smell slightly nauseating. I hated pot, I really did, but I needed to feel nothing, to feel free, like she had wanted me to. I twirled the thin roll between my fingers. It was perfectly rolled, tapered on one end, a twisted sphere at the other. Alice had rolled these, the little round globe was her signature.

I placed the tapered paper between my lips, my shaking hands igniting a blaze and bringing it to meet the rounded end. It lit quickly and I inhaled deeply, pulling the miserable smoke into my lungs, relishing in the burn, the weed burning as the paper crackled and hissed under my nose. I coughed, my lungs out of practice and fighting the invasive fumes, a horrible hacking stutter as bile caught in my throat. Once I recovered, I took another long drag, my body more accepting this time, and I kept the smoke in my lungs as long as I could before exhaling. It didn't take me long to finish the joint and I licked my fingers and snuffed out the roach before placing it back into the plastic bag. I shoved the bag in a sock and wrapped it into a ball before stashing it in my nightstand drawer. Esme never looked in this drawer. I had some shit in there from Chicago, books, pictures, cards, and she knew that stuff was private.

The bed hadn't been disturbed in weeks and I quickly yanked back the comforter and climbed into the tumbled sheets, my head crashing to the pillow and my whole body sinking into the pitiful comfort. I opened my eyes and stared at the stark whiteness. I was beyond exhausted and my eyelids were heavy, my eyes filmed over and scratchy, and I let calmness invade. Free from reality, I allowed myself, for one fleeting moment, to visualize her face and to think her name, and I let the word slip past the brick wall I had surrounded myself with.

"Bella."

I may have said it aloud, I couldn't tell. My mind swirled with detachment and my body froze with paralyzed solace. She was there, her head on the pillow beside me, her long lashes dancing over liquid eyes, her full lips pulled into a pout, and I brought my hand to rest on her transparent cheek as her face dissolved, the cloak of incapacitating sleep stifling all awareness.

…

I awoke late into the night. The room was dark and I pulled at the sheets next to me, the big bed silent and empty, and then I remembered - she was gone. Loneliness invaded. My heart was pounding in my chest and I wondered how it still beat. The erratic thumping in my chest hurt with each pulse it throbbed, and I was sure the cavity would cave with the pressure. I clutched one of the fluffy white pillows to my chest in an attempt to silence the pounding. I pressed my face into the cotton as I sobbed, the white case becoming saturated with salt and saliva. And I couldn't numb her out.

So I smoked another joint, and I felt better. Not good, but better. My stomach erupted into growls and I left the confines of my room to silently sneak into the kitchen. Flicking on the light, I searched the fridge for food and decided on a grilled tomato and mozzarella sandwich. The necessary ingredients pulled from the fridge, I set them on the cutting board. I washed the tomato, the plump red fruit glistening as I pulled a large knife from the wood block on the counter. The silver blade pierced the tender flesh, a clean cut right through the thin skin, and I marveled at how the blade slid so easily through the tomato, the red seeds spilling onto my fingers. For a fleeting moment, I wondered if the same blade would pierce my flesh as easily. Would the cut be so clean through my calloused skin, would my blood spill as the seeds had, the slimy mess smearing onto the cutting board, red mixing with red? Would it hurt? Would it be more painful than the lonely panic I was suffocating in, like a plastic bag of guilt pulled over my head while I tried to suck air from the vacuum?

My eyes blurred as I pulled the blade through the tomato again. The edge slipped on the wet surface and sliced against my palm and produced a thin line of red from the middle of my hand and through my wrist.

The knife dropped from my fingers. I had yet to feel pain so I investigated the wound more closely. Pulling at the skin, I exposed the white flesh beneath, blood now dripping from my hand onto the cutting board. I watched the wound drip, the blood splattering onto the tomato and across the sharp blade of silver. It swirled with the seeds from the tomato, pooling in the middle of the board and making odd patterns as the slippery fluids swirled together.

"Edward?"

I turned to find Jasper, his eyes squinting under the bright fluorescent lights. A warm trail of blood from my hand streaked down my arm and splattered onto the floor.

"Edward…what are you doing?" he asked suspiciously, his eyes scanning the kitchen and widening as he noticed my hand.

"Making a sandwich," I answered.

"You're bleeding," he nodded toward my hand and I looked down at the gash.

"Yep," I answered, watching the droplets of blood splatter against the floor. Drip, drip, drip. The circular splashes began to puddle, bright red against the hardwood floor.

"Are you high?" Jasper asked quietly.

"Yep," I snorted. Jasper grabbed a towel from the counter and quickly wrapped it around my hand and wrist, applying pressure to the gaping wound as I watched.

"Edward, what the fuck are you thinking?" Jasper muttered as his eyes scanned my face apprehensively. "How could you do this to your sister? And to Carlisle and Esme. Fuck, this would kill Bella-"

"Wait, what do you think just happened here?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at him, her name piercing through my foggy awareness, the misunderstanding evident in the hesitant calm of Jasper's demeanor. It was the kind of calm you get in an emergency, when your instincts take over and you just _do_ instead of _think_.

"I think it's pretty obvious," Jasper said, pulling me by my arm to the kitchen table and pushing me into the chair.

"Jasper, I wasn't committing…suicide." I pulled my hand from his grip, readjusting the blood stained towel and holding the cut closed.

"Did you or did you not just take a big-ass fucking knife and cut your own wrist?" Jasper paced in front of me, the panic now catching up with his emergency-induced calm. He was going to freak out, I could see it coming.

"Dude, sit down. Take some deep breaths or something. You're making me nervous." Jasper looked like he wanted to take that knife and stab me himself as he froze in front of me.

"I'm making you nervous? Oh, that's…that is rich, that is fucking hilarious," Jasper said through exasperated scoffs. But he did sit down, his elbows propped up on the table as he settled his head in his hands.

"It was an accident. The knife slipped and cut my hand. It's happened dozens of times," I said, trying to focus. I could feel the burning pain in my hand now and I leaned against the table in an attempt to stave off the wooziness now invading.

Jasper eyed me skeptically, doubt plain in his features. "An accident? And you just happened to be high, too? So, were you trying to numb out or man up?"

"Does it matter?" I asked.

"It might matter to her," Jasper retorted.

"Nothing matters to her. There is no her. It's done, over. She's gone," I spat.

"You really believe that? That it doesn't matter to her?" Jasper asked, shaking his head.

"I don't know what I believe anymore." I leaned back into the chair, my head slumping against the wooden slats.

"Yes you do. Your beliefs are just clouded by emotion right now, man. And it doesn't help that you're completely stoned, either," Jasper said.

"I smoked a couple of Alice's joints," I confessed, my head pounding now as I closed my eyes.

"Dude, those are one-a-days. You know she puts her best shit in her joints," Jasper responded.

"I know…I just needed…something," I slurred. I could hardly hear my voice, my mind quieting as the pain in my hand throbbed, my pulse thudding through my body. Thud, thud, thud.

"Alright, you sit tight. I hate to do this, man, because I ain't a rat, but you're seriously fucked up right now and you might need stitches. Don't move," Jasper demanded, his voice hollow and fading as I sank even further into the chair. I just wanted to go back upstairs to my bed and sleep but I wasn't sure my legs were going to work.

I heard them before I saw them, the thundering of their feet pummeling down the stairs. Their hands now on my forehead, now lifting my arm, they removed the towel from my hand and the wound gaped as a chill crawled through me. I shivered.

"Edward, can you hear me?" Carlisle. Bright light. I winced and pushed the hand with the agonizing beam away.

"Jasper, can you hold his arm." A grip on my bicep, a piercing pain in my wrist. Panic in my chest, paranoia seeping in. I couldn't react.

Soft tugs pulled at my hand. The pain numbed and I relaxed into the chair, engulfed in a dreamlike awareness as I listened to the assessments around me.

"He's stoned. But I'm pretty sure it's only pot." That was Jasper, I think, his grip on my arm tightening with inflection.

"Do you think he did this on purpose?" Alice now, her charmed voice tinged with despair.

"No. He said the knife slipped. I just think he's really out of it. I mean, can you blame him?" Jasper again.

"Um, Carlisle…you don't think…" Silence. Goddamn, fucking silence. Like a slap in my face, his silence was sharp and deserved.

"No. Edward's behavior is typical of a nineteen-year-old who's going through a traumatic experience," Carlisle, finally. "Besides, he's always been a bit overdramatic."

More silence. And then Carlisle spoke again.

"But we'll keep a close watch, just in case."

...

I lay in my bed, absentmindedly tugging at the black stitches laced through my hand and I winced at the pain, only slightly aware of how it had gotten there. I had awoken feeling groggy and disoriented and my head feeling dull from a pounding ache, and I had to remind myself where I was. My hand throbbed and the pain allowed recollection to seep in. The pot, the knife, the tomato, it all began to make sense, and I quickly remembered that Carlisle would be coming to visit me this morning. This was our routine: I'd fuck up, he'd let me sleep, and then we'd talk. Sometimes, Carlisle would be angry and he'd come at me with guilt-laden insults which I'd never disagree with. I preferred those interactions because, while his remarks were sometimes biting, they were easy to forget. It was the empathetic discussions that left me stewing and contemplating my decisions, forcing me to reevaluate what I had accepted as truth. These lectures were what filled me with dread. I didn't want to think about all that right now, I didn't want to make any decisions or reflect on my behavior. I just wanted it all to be over and done with.

I waited in my room for him. I waited all day, skipping breakfast and neglecting lunch, sunken into my soft bed and engulfed in pillows and blankets. I stared at the ceiling, making patterns out of the raised texture, her lips, her shoulders, the curve of her breasts, but when her eyes appeared I looked away.

Finally, late into the afternoon, there was a soft knock at the door and Carlisle entered my room. He sat on the leather couch, his face soft and calm. Fuck, he was playing introspection today.

I sat up in the bed, the heavy down comforter pulled across my legs, and scratched at my head, my hair flat across my scalp from the frozen position I'd held over the last twelve hours. Carlisle finally spoke.

"Would you like to tell me what happened?" he asked.

"You already know," I responded, my voice hoarse, my throat dry.

"Yes, I know what Alice has told me about it, but I think you'd have a very different perspective on the matter," Carlisle countered. "I'd like to know what you think happened."

"What I _think_ happened? What the fuck does that mean?" I snorted.

"Edward," Carlisle warned. Maybe he would be throwing insults after all.

I sighed. I was reluctant to talk about this but I knew Carlisle wouldn't leave until I did. I also knew that if I was developing schizophrenia, I couldn't keep secrets. This was something Carlisle and I had decided on long ago, when I had been worried about the bomb; _don't hold anything back_, we'd agreed. So I told him that I had woken up at Bella's house alone and that I had found her letter and I'd sat on the couch for three days and watched the ants. I told him that I threw the dish and about my fight with Emmett, and that I had then taken off running down the road. I told him everything because if I was dangerous, he needed to know.

"And the knife?" Carlisle asked, his body leaning over his legs and his elbows resting on his knees. Assessing, evaluating, searching, Carlisle was trying to figure shit out.

I shrugged and forced myself to remember the foggy details. "It slipped. I promise. I wasn't trying to kill myself."

"And the drugs?" Carlisle asked, leaning back against the back of the sofa.

"I just wanted everything to stop. I had all these thoughts running around in my head and I just needed it to stop," I muttered.

"Thoughts? What kind of thoughts?" Carlisle delved. He was searching for signs, looking for clues to the impending psychosis.

"Look, why don't we stop with the charade, okay? I know what you're doing. No, nobody 'told' me to do anything and I'm not hearing voices," I said, a little perturbed at how Carlisle was treating me, like he was trying to trick me into saying something incriminating. I mean, fuck, _I'm_ the one who thinks this illness is going to get me in the end. He could at least recognize that I can handle this shit instead of poking around in my head and trying to trick me into exposing myself. I _wanted_ to be exposed. At least then we'd all know.

"You're right. I apologize. That wasn't fair," Carlisle agreed. I looked at him for a moment trying to assess whether or not I really wanted to continue the conversation, a bit afraid of what Carlisle would say once I finished recounting the events.

We sat in silence, Carlisle thoughtful and contemplative while I picked at my stitches. It really was a terrible looking cut and I could see why they had thought I was suicidal. I don't know, maybe subconsciously I was and this was just the way my true desires were manifesting themselves. Or, maybe it was just a combination of my incoherency or an awkward twist in my wrist and an exceptionally waxy surface that just caused the knife to find its way to my skin.

"So are you going to put me on pills now?" I asked, the silence beginning to thicken around me.

"Is that what you want? Do you think you need medication?" Carlisle asked quietly, his blue eyes worn and tired. "What do you think you need, Edward?"

Her. I just need her.

"Edward, I know this is hard and I know you're under a terrible amount of stress right now, but I want you to know that you are my primary concern and I think you need some time. This has all been very sudden. I won't force you into anything this time, you're an adult, but I want you to know what all of your options are. I have a colleague, a friend really, that I can refer you to, if you're interested." Carlisle was making it my choice. This friend was probably a psychologist and the thought of telling all my shit to some stranger made me uncomfortable. But this friend might also be able to prescribe something more potent than pot.

"I'll think about it."

…

"Fifteen two, fifteen four, and then a run for five, six, seven," Alice murmured as she laid her cards on the coffee table. Moving her little red peg seven spaces on the board, she gathered the cards into a small pile and tossed them toward me. She picked up the four cards in her crib and fanned them out before her, her lips pursed and eyebrows furrowed in concentration. She was notorious for missing points and always exerted great effort to not make the mistake.

"Nothing. I've got nothing." She threw the cards on the table, exasperated at the bad hand. Cribbage really is a game of luck, sometimes you just get the right cards.

"You must have shitty Karma or something, Alice. The card Gods do not like you today," Emmett said from his seat beside me on the musty velvet couch. His eyes were fixated on the screen, his Xbox controller in his hands as he expertly maneuvered his digital Diablo across the pavement.

It was the end of June and graduation had come and gone. I spent the last few weeks of high school in a haze, hiding out with Alice in the fucking girls' restroom. It was fucking pathetic too, the two of us smoking cigarettes or whatever else she had in her tote, and just pissing the day away until we could finally go home. She never said anything about my all-of-a-sudden smoking habit because she really had no room to talk. We basically worked out a mutual non-snitch policy and instead puffed in silence. The restroom was a link to _her_, and I sometimes imagined she was with us, her smoke becoming mine and swirling around me in the small room, like a tornado of emotional instability.

I had completely blown my perfect grade point average, but really, what the fuck did it matter? It's not like I was going to a university or something where they actually gave a shit about how well you memorized useless information. Carlisle had been pissed but he let me off the hook with a pity lecture. He felt bad about what had happened with...her. He took responsibility for not being around, for not pushing for an intervention, but he really had acted with the best intentions. He thought I had it under control, but he overestimated me. He knew I was having a tough time with this and didn't want to upset me further, so he gave me a blank check for fuck-ups. I didn't know how long it was going to last, but I wasn't about to sit around waiting to find out.

I didn't have a party or celebratory camping trip for my birthday or for graduation. I didn't even go to the ceremony. Why in the hell would I want to plaster on some dopey fake grin to shake some fucker's hand and parade across some stupid stage in some mundane rite of passage? It was all fucking pointless and a waste of my time.

I stood up from the couch, Alice's eyes following my movement as her eyebrows furrowed together. Rosalie was at work and Emmett was taking care of Charlie today, who was currently upstairs in his crib sleeping.

"Where are you going?" Alice asked as she cleaned up the cards.

"Out."

"Out where?" she pressed. Man, she has been on my fucking case lately.

"I don't know, the market? I need some stuff," I mumbled.

Alice nodded. It was a lie. I just went to the market yesterday. In fact, I spent a great deal of my time at the market, walking the aisles, searching. I don't know what I was searching for. Well, yes, I did know what I was searching for, I just didn't want to let myself think about it. The moment I thought about it I felt a searing panic and I couldn't see, I couldn't breathe. It was utterly paralyzing.

But I couldn't stay away either. I filled every day with things that reminded me of her: cigarettes and peppermint, lavender and chocolate, the school day-smoking restroom, the market. I'd even taken to dealing with a screaming baby every night so I could sleep on her couch, wrapped in her afghan. I carried her letter with me everywhere, every day, a tangible part of her that I could physically connect with, something that she had touched, that she had wept over. And I carried her ring, the looped gold secured in my pocket, a constant reminder of what could have been. In this way I concocted a delicate balance of numbness and consciousness, never allowing myself to be fully aware in any given moment. It was almost tolerable this way.

I had visited Carlisle's doctor friend with the hope of procuring a prescription, but quickly dumped those meetings when it was evident he wasn't going to prescribe anything. After some tests and questioning, he determined I wasn't having a schizophrenic episode, not yet anyway. He said I was just depressed and that I obviously had residual issues stemming from my parents' death, but that I was completely capable of dealing with this shit on my own. I just had to laugh at the irony. Fuck, four years ago they had wanted to put me on drugs for every tiny little infraction, and I had resisted. Now that I craved to be numb they denied me, telling me to get over it, and prescribing exercise and hobbies instead as a way to get my mind off my ex-girlfriend.

But they didn't understand. She wasn't just a girlfriend. She was everything. My whole universe compacted into one fragile human being. How the fuck does someone just get over that?

So I sought the numbness on my own. Sometimes I would run until I thought my heart was going to explode, gasping for air and pushing the limits of my body. I would suffer the following day with aching muscles and sore joints, but I found solace in the discomfort. I found solace in my sister's cedar box, stealing her joints for a quick smoke on the porch so I could sleep. Sometimes I would forget she was gone, especially after a particularly vivid dream, and wake up in a panic, only to relive the whole nightmare again, realizing exactly what I'd lost all over again. On more than one occasion I'd found one of her hairs on my sweatshirt, one long solitary brown strand, and I'd wrapped it around my finger until it restricted the blood flow and the digit went numb, and I poked at the purplish pulse. That usually led to invading Carlisle's liquor cabinet or persuading Emmett to go to the liquor store up the street. He looked a lot older than he was and they never carded him there. I'd get fucking plastered and spend the night curled around the toilet. Twice, I had told Alice I had the flu, but I was running out of excuses. It was a little easier living with Rose and Emmett. Sometimes Emmett would join me for a smoke on the porch or a drink on the couch; I think he found it a bonding experience, or maybe he just needed to step away from fatherhood for a minute. That wouldn't last much longer though, he was going back to Pullman soon.

I stepped into my shoes and tightened the laces, Alice's eyes on me the entire time, before I grabbed my keys from the small table by the window and opened the front door, almost slamming into some mail courier about to knock on the door.

"Hello. I'm looking for Mr. Edward Cullen or Ms. Rosalie Hale," the courier said, glancing at two large manila envelopes in his hands.

"I'm Edward Cullen," I responded. What the fuck was this? No one would be sending me anything. What the hell was going on?

"Can you sign here for me please?" He held out his clipboard and I signed on the line as he handed me the envelope. It wasn't that heavy, probably a letter of some sort, and I immediately looked for the sender's address.

Jacksonville.

Oh fuck. Fucking Jacksonville. Fuck! My hands shook as I stood in the doorway imagining what this envelope held, imaginary words playing over and over in my head and causing the room to sway.

I heard her voice, clear and sharp: _I could die, Edward._

"Sir? Sir?" The man's face blurred before me.

"I'm Rosalie," Alice said beside me, signing on the line and quickly grabbing the package from the man's fingers before shutting the door in his face. She turned to me, her eyes on the print.

"Jacksonville, Alice. It's from Jacksonville," I murmured.

"Do you want me to open it?" she asked me, and I shook my head. No. I could do this.

I tore through the paper. Inside, the envelope was almost empty, and I had to really look for the contents. I pulled out the thin slip. It was a cashier's check made out to me for forty thousand dollars with a note attached to it.

_Please. For me,_ was all it said.

At first, I was relieved. The possibilities of what it could have said were literally making me nauseous, so this wasn't so bad really.

Then, I started thinking. She was in Jacksonville, which means she was with her mother. She knew I'd be here, she was thinking about me, at least. And she wanted me to go to New York. Alone. She wasn't coming back.

Yeah, fuck that! I couldn't stand the thought of going to New York now; that whole future burned to the ground when she left. That would be the very embodiment of torture, living our life and our future all on my own. No. I wouldn't do it. The lettering blurred on the check as I held it up in front of my face to see her signature looped across the bottom, and I choked back a sob. Breathe, Edward, fucking keep it together.

_Oh shit, please don't let me crack right here in front of them again, please. _

I shifted my gaze to their curious stares and I didn't know if I could get the words out. "It's money. For school," I mumbled, tossing the check onto the coffee table and pocketing the note, the slip of paper joining the other mementos.

Alice picked up the check, her eyes calm as she surveyed the writing.

"You can have it," I said. "I'm not her fucking charity case." I felt it bubbling again, the anxiety simmering beneath the surface, my skin getting itchy and my heart beginning to pound in my throat. I mean, who the fuck did she think she was, sending that shit here, demanding I go to New York? It's my fucking life. She left, she has no say in what I do with it now. And right now, I craved sedation.

Alice ripped open Rosalie's package, dumping the many items onto the coffee table. Two more checks like mine fluttered from the envelope and a thick packet of papers, on top of which was a note.

"The house belongs to you and Emmett now. I had it transferred to your names. Thank you for everything. Love, Bella." As soon as her name was out of Alice's mouth, my heart ripped open. I hadn't heard it spoken aloud in so long and the sound of it triggered that grief, the assault quick and without warning.

"There's also a check for me and one for Jasper. For school." Alice's eyes filled with tears as she blinked, trying to keep them from spilling over her cheeks. "What is she doing?"

"She's giving up," I muttered, the truth so vibrant as the last thread of hope binding our connection snapped. She'd never have to come back here now. She knew we'd all be taken care of and she'd be free to wither away in Florida, her mother draining her already guilt-sodden spirit. Oh, God, I felt sick. She really was never coming back.

"I'm going out," I said through blurred eyes and made a beeline for the door. It was like she was leaving me all over again. Up until now, I had just been detaining the distress, keeping it at bay because I had this little tiny festering speck of hope that she might return, that maybe, just maybe, she was suffering as I was, and when she realized her mistake, she would rush home to find me. I would forgive her immediately because I knew this wasn't about her love for me, it was about her love for herself.

But now all hope had been crushed by a puny mail courier at the door, and a signature on the dotted line. She was cutting her ties here, absolving her associations to anything in Forks, including me, and I figured I may as well do the same.

"Edward! Wait, don't leave, not while you're like this," Alice cried. She grabbed my arm and I shrugged her off, unable to look at her destroyed expression. Instead, I flung open the door and raced to my car. I peeled out of the driveway, my sister on the porch screaming and yelling as Emmett pulled her back inside. I knew he'd take care of her and she'd be just fine. She was a lot stronger than anyone gave her credit for. But she didn't need to see me like this.

I sped down the highway, not sure where I was going, but knowing I couldn't stay here, knowing I couldn't stay in that fucking house any longer, her handwriting burning a hole in my pocket, the ring heavy and digging into my thigh. Tears blurred my vision, the lines in the road becoming indiscernible, and I felt anxiety thick in my chest, choking, suffocating, a vice restricting my breathing, my heartbeat fucking pounding in my head.

I wanted it to stop. I needed the pounding to stop. I drove erratically, my foot heavy on the pedal, until I saw a sign, a bar with a row of motorcycles parked out front, a grimy and shady-as-fuck place. They probably wouldn't check I.D.'s there and I was tall enough to pass for twenty-one and hadn't shaved in days, my neck and chin covered in bristle, making me look older than a mere nineteen.

I skid to a halt outside the bar, my wheels spinning in the gravel and clouding the air with dust as I killed the engine. There were some guys hanging outside just smoking and bullshitting, and they eyed me as I walked up the path but I looked right through them, my quest to silence the pounding my only concern.

Inside smelled like piss; peanut shells covered the floor, a jukebox was radiating classics, a handful of patrons were drooling over glasses in darkened corners. I quickly made my way to the bar to a heavy set balding man drying glasses behind the counter. He looked like he could handle himself in a fight and he probably had a shotgun stowed beneath the counter. I don't know, maybe I've seen Roadhouse one too many times.

I sat down at a barstool as he assessed me carefully. I wiped at my face. I probably had sweat and tears streaked across my cheeks, so I avoided his eyes.

"Well, you look like shit," the bartender growled, and I looked up at his weathered face.

"Thanks," I snorted. Fucking asshole.

"What can I get you?" he grumbled, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

"Jack. Straight up," I muttered, resting my head in my hands. For a split second I didn't think he'd pour me the shot, but without another word he set the tumbler before me. A double. I quickly brought the glass to my lips and tossed back the liquor and let it burn down my throat and heat in my chest, tasting the burnt wood aftertaste on my tongue. I welcomed the fire, letting it drown out the pounding in my head, hoping it would burn up my pitiful excuse for a soul.

"Again," I mumbled to the bartender, the old man shakily spilling the liquor onto the counter as he refilled my glass. No wonder he didn't check my I.D., he was probably drunk too. I downed this glass as I had the first, the delicious burn a smolder this time, and I was beginning to feel the effects, the numbing warmth bleeding into my limbs. I felt my arms get heavy and a glaze filming over my eyes as I pushed the empty glass toward the bartender. One more. One more and I'd be perfectly detached.

"Again."

"Naw, see, you gotta pay for them two first, son," the bartender drawled.

"I'm not your son," I slurred, whipping out my wallet from my back pocket and emptying it of cash. I didn't know how much was there, but I'd drink whatever it could afford. "Like I said, again."

He gathered up the bills and I watched the amber liquid splash against my glass. I watched my fingers wrap around the cup, the whiskey sloshing as my hand brought the rim to my lips. Fire down my throat, warmth in my chest and the bartender refilled the glass. Pour, drink, repeat.

With a dull awareness, I tuned in to the music playing from the jukebox. Are you fucking shitting me? Karma fucking hates my fucking guts.

A charming piano cut through the grimy fog of this stuffy room and I heard that voice, the melodic vibrato too beautiful to be in this place: _"She went to Florida, and left you here with your father's gun alone…"_

I stood up in disbelief. How? In all the places, of all the songs, why fucking Joni Mitchell? Bracing myself on the back of the chairs, I made my way over to the jukebox. I pressed my forehead against the dust covered machine, letting the tears slip from my eyes, seeing her heart-shaped face, her liquid eyes, imaging her lavender smell. I was too drunk to fucking care that the handful of people in here probably thought I was insane, hugging a fucking jukebox and crying like a fucking baby. I just wanted to be close to her.

How much more shit could I handle? Why hadn't I snapped yet? My father snapped under far less pressure. Why, with tragedy after tragedy, had the bomb not taken me? God, I was so fucking confused. She wanted me to be free? Free from what? Free from my father, free from mental illness? From her? From our past, our lost child, our lost future? I would never be free from that shit, it was a part of me now, just as she was, just like my parents, a divot in my soul that could never be filled.

I had always taken care of things, I had always made things better, either by braiding my sister's hair, filling my family with nourishment, or by loving her. Bella, her name a swift cut. I had just wanted to make things better by loving her. And now I had no purpose. My sister no longer needed me, my family now had families of their own and she…she had chosen her disease over me. Even fucking schizophrenia had abandoned me, left me here to deal with this affliction rather than wrapping me in a protective covering of mind-numbing delusion.

The song ended. I wanted to hear more so I fumbled in my pocket searching for a quarter, a dollar, anything. Then I remembered I gave all my money to the bartender and desperation locked its teeth around my arm. With a swiping blow I cracked the glass of the jukebox with my fist. I heard the bartender yell but I cocked my fist back and was preparing to strike again when the large man yanked me back by my shirt. I swung wildly, trying to make contact, stumbling into a table and knocking it to the floor before losing my balance and falling to my knees. This time when the man grabbed my shirt he dragged me all the way out the door. The sky had darkened now, it was dusk, and as I squirmed trying to get away from the fucker, a shockingly massive fist collided with my jaw, my mouth filling with blood. I spat, a bit of my tooth gritty in my mouth, and I spat again, my tongue feeling the hole where my tooth had been.

I scrambled to my feet and ran to the Volvo as it blurred in front of me, the twilight sky casting tricky shadows on the silver paint. I quickly started the engine, trying to clear the dizzying intoxication from my brain. I slammed the gas and peeled out of the gravel drive and onto the highway. I blinked, my eyes a fucking mess of color and distortion, the objects in front of me hazy and faded as I tried to operate the vehicle. I was straying to the shoulder and I swerved back onto the road, trying to correct my steering as my car shot through the oncoming traffic of white lights and blaring horns, and I saw a tree getting closer and closer before the sound of metal twisting and an explosion of white canvas knocked into my face, a shocking blow to my chest, the breath forced from my body as I was thrown over the center console.

And then, silence. It seemed to go on forever. I attempted to move. I pushed the airbag out of my way and tried to open the door. I fell out of the car. I didn't think I was hurt anywhere. I looked at my hands, my right fist bloodied along my knuckles, but it didn't hurt. My chest was sore, probably a rib injury, and I felt my face with my hands. I could still taste blood in my mouth and I licked my upper lip feeling a sting and a split, and I touched it with my fingers. I suddenly felt woozy and I stumbled to my knees before I heard the shouting.

"Sir! Sir! Are you okay?" I looked up at the screaming woman, a cell phone in her hand. I nodded but was unable to speak.

In a matter of minutes I heard sirens and saw lights flashing red and blue and yellow as the medics checked me out. My car was totaled, I had lost a fucking tooth, quite possibly broken a rib or two, and my hand was beginning to throb. The police would come. They would do a chemical test and they would see the various toxins in my blood.

I was so fucking fucked.

…

Joni Songs

_Roses Blue_

_Rainy Night House_

Thank you for reading, my dears.


	31. And the Painted Ponies Go Up and Down

**Darlings,**

We're officially over thirty, my how time flies. We will end around 35 chapters, plus a little epilogue.

**Amers **is my psychology officianado. Thank you for your help love.

**n7of9 **is beta and omega and everything in between.

Disclaimer: I don't own it.

**CH 31 "And the Painted Ponies Go Up and Down"**

**APOV**

Oh shit! This is not happening, it can't be happening! I cannot believe I didn't see this coming.

But then again, I totally did.

I knew something was going to break soon and, to be honest, I always thought it would be Edward. He can be so dramatic, I thought he'd be the one to pull a stunt like this. They really are so much alike, even in their inability to get over themselves.

I picked up the note again. My hands shook and my eyesight blurred as my mind replayed what I had witnessed. He looked so much like our father, the resemblance quite disturbing as he threw that dish against the wall, and all I wanted was for it to stop because for one fleeting moment, I felt it. Fear. The others did too, the way Rosalie crouched over her baby and Emmett tackled him to the ground, it was all out of fear. And it was understandable. He was acting crazy, I mean, who just lets ants parade across their coffee table like that? Who smashes a dish against the wall and attacks their cousin over a fucking letter? Who takes off running barefoot in Forks?

Edward. Edward would do all those things. _And he's not crazy_, I told my stupid brain. I shook the thought from my head. He's not crazy. This is Edward, my brother, the boy that used to braid my hair and make my lunch every day. He's just heartbroken, and it's okay, he should be heartbroken.

I can't believe she left us like this. I can't believe it! After all the shit we went through together, she leaves now? Why now? Why didn't she leave sooner, when this shit could have been salvaged, when my brother wasn't so emotionally invested and she wasn't so emotionally destroyed? They needed each other right now, couldn't she see that?

Then again, this all made perfect sense. Bella doesn't know how to deal. I know she had a lot to deal with and on occasion I wanted to shake the shit out of her myself, to smack some sense into her pretty little face, but she was my best friend and I loved her. It made sense that by the time she pulled her head out of her ass she'd be all wrong in her assumptions. This was a real mess, a real big mess. Did she think he'd just be able to get over it and move on, accept her excuse and just let her go? No, Edward wasn't exactly known for his ability to get over shit. He would wallow, he was a definitely a wallower.

"I'm gonna go get him," I said, grabbing the keys to the Volvo from the table by the window and rushing out the front door.

"Alice, wait, I'll come with you." Jasper trotted after me down the walkway. "He's kind of freaked out right now. I don't trust it."

"Him. You mean, you don't trust him," I said, opening the driver side door before turning to face him. He was being protective and I understood his concern, but Edward would never hurt me.

"I'll be okay. It's better if I go alone. You're right, he's freaked out right now, he's broken, and he doesn't want everyone to see that. Would you?" Jasper walked around the car to wrap his arm around my waist. He pushed the hair from my face, his fondness for the new length evident. I hadn't colored or cut my hair in ages. For some reason I felt like I needed this connection to my former self, a connection to my past, the copper coloring shared between siblings a physical link of our shared pain. I felt like I was ready to absolve this issue once and for all and now this was happening, drudging up those old miseries all over again.

"Be careful, please?" I kissed his lips quickly before jumping into the seat and rolling down the window. Jasper shoved his hands in his pockets, his face worried and dejected as I backed out of the driveway.

"Call Carlisle!" I shouted as I drove off to find my brother, heading in the direction he had taken off running.

Fuck. Where the fuck was he going? This wasn't a big neighborhood but Edward was fast, especially on a rage-induced adrenaline rush. I drove around the streets looking for his copper head and flying legs. Finally, I found him in a heap on the sidewalk, and my heart raced as I forced myself to control my emotions. The last thing he needed was me falling apart in front of him. I had learned long ago, when dealing with irrational Edward, being direct and to the point was the most efficient way to get him to listen. Beating around the bush left room for interpretation and Edward always interpreted things far worse than they really were. Being direct seemed to shock him out of his pessimistic pretense.

Once he was in the car, I had a chance to really look at him. He looked like shit, like he hadn't showered in days. His face was a mess of stubble and scrapes and his clothes were soggy and covered in filth. Oh God, this was bad, this was going to be really fucking bad. My eyes filled with tears and I gripped the steering wheel in an attempt to stave off any hysterics just a little longer. Oh, I was devastated, believe me, but right now my mind was in a complete 'fight or flight' response. And I would most definitely have to fight my brother through this every step of the way.

Bella was my best friend, and she was gone. Never mind the fact that she was sick or that she had lost a baby and had been told she'd never have children in the same fucking week. Never mind that she had lost her father just as she was getting to know him, and finding out her mother was the reason she hadn't known him in the first place. Never mind the fact that my brother was having a full-on mental breakdown because of this and that seeing him suffer was probably the hardest thing I had to do. Putting all that shit aside, my best friend was gone and I had no idea where she was.

I wanted details. I needed to know when she had left and what had happened, but when I asked Edward, his eyes blazed into my mine and I quickly shut my mouth. There was something so familiar in that blaze, something that scared the living shit out of me, something I rarely admitted even to myself, but saw more and more of recently. Edward looked so much like our father.

But he wasn't our father. Edward and I both had a chance of developing that disease, but shit, we also had a chance of developing cancer or being killed in a freak accident. I didn't think Edward would ever be schizophrenic, but then again, people never expect cancer or freak accidents. I wasn't going to waste my life waiting for it to end, though.

So I begged, I begged him to tell me and he finally obliged. "She left on Sunday morning. I don't know what time, but it was after one and before eight. I woke up and she was-" He couldn't even finish his sentence and the tears in my eyes blubbered over. Sunday? Right after Charlie was born. He'd been sitting there for three days. He _looked_ like he'd been sitting there for three days. Shit, this was bad. It was happening all over again, like when our parents died.

Beside me, Edward muttered unintelligibly. His breathing accelerated and his fingers clutched at the door, words mumbling from his lips as he gasped and tried to breath. Oh fuck, he was hyperventilating. His hands found the door handle and he started to open it.

I swerved and ran into the gravel ditch on the side of the highway. I swiftly locked the doors so he couldn't get out. I was scared and my heart was pounding and my hands shaking at the thought of what he had almost done. He wasn't even wearing his seatbelt, for fuck's sake, and here he was trying to open the door of a moving vehicle. Edward was acting so strange, so uncontrollable and irrational that I just prayed I would make it home before he did something really drastic. Maybe I should have brought Jasper with me, after all.

"I can't breathe Alice, can you roll down the fucking window or something?" he mumbled, and I stared at him. He didn't see anything wrong with his behavior. He was actually acting like it was a completely logical thing to do. I pressed the button to roll down the window and let the cool air fill the car, causing me to shiver as the cold invaded.

Edward just leaned his head against the headrest and closed his eyes. He breathed with easy cadence now, placated and content with the fresh air. I had to get him home to Carlisle.

I saw it again, like it had just happened now rather than four years ago, vivid and clear and brilliant images of the beginning of our time here in Forks. It had started as merely running in the rain, then came the cuts and bruises, a ride home in the cruiser from Charlie once in a while, and then, before any of us realized what was happening, he was passed out in the front lawn, his body frozen over. I blinked, trying to erase the persistent memory, his eyes vacant and glazed over and rolling back in his head as I tried to wake him.

At the time, it was all Carlisle could take. Edward was enrolled into cooking classes, and I went along too, for support. I had thought it could be something that Edward and I did together, but I quickly discovered that cooking was not one of my talents. Instead, I shuffled my tarot cards while Edward breezed through the classes. Eventually, he stopped taking his meds and he was okay. He wasn't great, but he was making the best of it, we all were.

But I didn't know if he could do it again, if he could come back again. Maybe he had just been suppressing it, and losing Bella would be the final trigger.

_No. This is Edward, your brother that used to let you sleep in his bed when you got scared. He's fine. He's going to be fine!_

Edward chuckled beside me, his eyes vacant and glazed as he stared up at the white house in front of us. I looked over at him but he didn't acknowledge me, just fell out of the car and stumbled his way up to the house. The door was already open and Carlisle and Esme were poised at the entry.

I followed them inside, running a wash cloth under the faucet and handing it to Esme. She had tears in the corners of her eyes, but her hands were gentle as she tended to my brother.

"Alice? What happened? How did this happen?" she whispered. I pulled my hair from my face and ran my fingers through my bangs, and I felt the devastation I had been repressing slowly begin to creep under my skin.

"She left him." I let the tears fall now. Carlisle took over tending to Edward, cleaning his face and shoulder, the skin grated and bloodied. He didn't even flinch. He was detached, he had removed himself from the situation and was drowning in the pain. Vacant and glazed.

"She? Who, Bella?" Esme gasped, and I nodded my head as Esme wrapped me in her arms. I poured my tears into her soft cotton shirt as her hands pulled through my hair and her lips pressed into the top of my head, the smell of jojoba and eucalyptus filling my lungs.

"Shit!" Esme cursed into my hair, and it just made me cry harder. Esme never cursed but she knew it was going to be bad, bad enough to warrant expletives.

Carlisle finished in silence, bandaging the abrasion on his shoulder and tossing the swabs and packaging into a pile. Finally, Carlisle spoke to Edward, a speech I'd heard him give a thousand times, and Edward just nodded and left us in the kitchen as he climbed the stairs to his bedroom.

I recounted the events for Carlisle and Esme and they listened and nodded. They both knew how Edward could be when he was upset. He had a hot temper, he always had. The cooking classes and running only helped to channel that energy by keeping his mind and body focused.

And Bella, she had kept him distracted. Instead of worrying about himself, he poured all his apprehension and fear into worrying about her. I had witnessed first-hand how he had changed since meeting her. When she was in the hospital and there was nothing he could do, I thought for sure he was going to destroy something, tear down the hospital to get to her, but instead, he waited. He controlled his impulses and harnessed his anger and filed it under 'frustration' because he refused to channel any of that anger toward her. He loved her too much.

But now that she was gone, so was the distraction, and I feared he would return to his old destructive patterns. And I wasn't the only one with this fear.

Maybe she'll come back. It's only been three days. Maybe she'll come back.

I heard the front door open and close and Emmett and Jasper marched their way into the kitchen. Esme hugged them both before setting herself to work making some sandwiches. It was only four in the afternoon, too early for dinner, but that was how we Cullens coped, a long talk over a good meal.

Jasper walked over to me and kissed my forehead. "You okay?" he asked, and I just stared into his blue-gray eyes, pushing his messy blond hair behind his ear. "It'll be okay, you know? This is just a curve ball and he doesn't know how to handle it."

A curve ball. The phrase pinged around in my head and I had a memory of the words as they played out in my cards. I had seen this. My memory was failing me at the moment, but I knew I had seen this. I ran upstairs as Jasper called my name and followed. I found my notebook and, taking a seat on my bed, I flipped through the pages. Curve ball. Three of swords.

The pages slid beneath my fingers as I looked for the reading. It had been a while ago, maybe even a year, and I quickly threw this notebook to floor and searched for my old one.

"Alice, are you okay?" Jasper was still standing in the doorway. "What are you looking for?"

"Something you said downstairs, curve ball, it reminded me of something I saw in the cards a while ago," I murmured. And it was something that had freaked me out at the time but hadn't made any sense, until now.

"Here. Here it is." I hesitantly skimmed the page, my shaded pencil drawings in the margins little reminders of the cards pulled and of my confusion and panic. The fear all came tumbling off the page to strike me in the face all over again. I recoiled, actually flinched away from my own handwriting scratched into the notebook.

Justice, decisions, a past mistake.

Temperance, comforting and centered, a need for moderation and balance.

The Tower, sudden change, a revelation, a crash.

The Five of Cups, bereavement, loss, bathed in grief.

And there is was, the Three of Swords, heartbreak. Betrayal. Terrifying curve balls that life throws at us, an open wound when you least expect it.

God, it's like it was spelled out right there on the page, but only now did the cryptic messages make sense. I needed to read again. I needed to do it now.

"I need my cards. Where's my tote? Did you bring my tote? It was in Rose's car. Did you grab it?" I asked Jasper as confusion clouded his normally serene features.

"Emmett brought me home is the jeep. I…I didn't know you didn't have your bag," Jasper stuttered. I moved to the dresser and frantically looked through my underwear drawer.

"It's okay. I still have my old deck. I couldn't throw it out, it's like a part of me, you know?" Jasper just smiled and I smiled back because he did know. It's the reason he still keeps his very first guitar pick in his wallet. We're just sentimental, the two of us.

I quickly found the silk stashed amongst the cotton and lace and I unwrapped the parcel, spreading the scarf out onto the bed with the deck of cards secured in my hand. Shuffling and reshuffling the deck, I spread them out on the scarf, raking my hands through the worn paper, gently touching some and leaving others unblemished.

Jasper shut the door to my bedroom quietly and softly turned the lock. He was going to smoke and under normal circumstances I would have joined him, but I was intent now, absolutely trembling to see what the cards had to say about this.

Quickly lighting a stick of incense, Jasper opened my cedar box, a gift for my twelfth birthday from my father. I remember he had wanted me to keep my drawings in it. I rarely sketched now, the mere penciling of a twelve-year-old was as accomplished as I became in the skill, but I remember this part of my father vividly. He always remembered details like this, little stupid shit like the fact I liked to draw, things that didn't really matter in the long run but letting you think that maybe, just maybe, he had been paying attention the whole time. It was his way of instilling hope in a hopeless situation.

Jasper pulled a few of the bags from the box and searched the contents, letting the familiar seedy scent waft through the air.

"Didn't you just roll a bunch of joints? Like yesterday?" Jasper murmured as he dug through the bags searching for the white twisted paper.

"They should be in there," I remarked, only partially paying attention to his dilemma as I began to lay the cards, my mind beginning to fog over in slight disorientation. The cards would come, they would lay themselves, no rhyme, no patterns, just snippets of information laid out in specific succession.

The aromas began to sift together as I laid the first card, the hazy smoke of the incense and weed intermingling as I inhaled deeply, pulling the aura of the room into my being and letting it calm me. A soft lull of light rain gently thud against the window and roof, and I found myself focusing on the harmless storm outside instead of the torrential one sleeping upstairs.

The Hermit. The card fell from my fingers, yet this was not a surprise. Introspection, seeking solitude, the search for one's sense of self. Yes, my brother's past had been a lonely one and the hermit often showed itself in relation to Edward.

Fear, illusion, bewilderment, as The Moon now made an appearance. This is a time of confusion, a time of outlandish and bizarre behavior, and my stomach twisted as I thought of the line of ants crawling across the coffee table and Edward frozen on the couch.

The next card fell from my hand, ten blades pierced through the back of a body laid out upon the sand. The Ten of Swords. Bottoming out, self pity, sacrifice. The martyr. I froze. I knew my brother liked dramatics and this appearance caused my skin to crawl. When Edward decided upon self-sacrifice, it took tremendous effort to convince him otherwise.

My fingers twitched toward the deck against my palm, hesitation lulling as the next card disclosed itself to me. I felt the bed shift as Jasper sank into the mattress beside me and caressed my back, and I closed my eyes, letting his touch calm my nerves. I always worried what the cards would say, but really, so much was left to interpretation. I just needed to be clear on what the cards were trying to tell me. Focus with an open mind.

Jasper handed me the joint and I placed the paper between my lips and inhaled, letting the smoke fume into my lungs, accepting it into my body, and I handed the rolled weed back to him. I would see clearly now.

My hesitation now at bay, I pulled another card: The Star, reversed. Faith in the future, fond expectations and hope. Reversed.

"Fuck!" I gasped, under my breath. He was losing hope, being denied, blocked and restricted. I felt myself begin to sway, my fingers moving on their own as the next card made itself known.

Four of Pentacles. Wanting to possess, maintaining control and blocking change. Holding onto the present. The cards fell in waves now, the meanings pouring from my lips as I spoke the words aloud.

"Overemotional and temperamental, the Knight of Cups." Again, I'd seen this card many times in relation to my brother. This wasn't so much of a surprise.

"The Hanged Man," I mumbled, as I released the tears that had been building behind my lids, the realization beginning to sink in. "Letting go. Ending the struggle." This card caused my fingers to shake. It could be the end of just this one thing, Bella's departure a turned page in our future, or it could be the end of everything, my whole world crumbling as a result of her decision. My vision was beginning to cloud over as I took another hit from Jasper's joint and exhaled forcefully. One more, one last card. Seven. There would be seven.

With trembling fingers, I flicked the last card to the pile. Withdrawing from involvement, approaching a closed-off area, being aware of a larger reality, I ran my finger across the High Priestess, confusion adding to the jumbled mess of cards, the first thing from my lips shocking the hell out of even me.

"She's not coming back. And it's going to destroy him."

…

I feel like I live in a state of perpetual worry and fear, wondering what else could go wrong, wondering when karma was going to throw her next curve ball. When would it be enough? When would it fucking be over, when would karma be satisfied with her retribution?

Bella had been gone for two months and still it was like she had left yesterday. Two months without my best friend, two months of wondering where she was or if she was okay. I had sent her emails that she hadn't responded to. I hadn't received a delivery failure notice yet, but I didn't get any replies either. The closest thing to contact I had received was a read receipt on an email I had sent from Carlisle's email address. She had at least opened it and I clung to the hope that maybe she would know that we still loved her and wanted her to come home. This was her home, here with us, and I told her so in every email. Every email ended the same; come home, we miss you. I never gave her too much information about Edward. I didn't want her coming back because she felt obligated to help save him, I wanted her to come back because she knew this was the place she was supposed to be. Yet she never responded. And she never came home.

And it was killing him. When Jasper had found him in the kitchen, a clean cut right down the middle of his wrist and palm, my heart had plummeted straight to the soles of my feet. Edward's eyes were circled in black, his skin dewed with sweat and his hair plastered against his forehead. He had said it was an accident but he was completely stoned, the skunky smell permeating from him, and it scared the shit out of me. To Edward, smoking pot was the equivalent of drinking battery acid, or something. To Edward, marijuana meant schizophrenia. Marijuana meant psychosis, hallucinations, destruction, death. To Edward, marijuana was suicide.

That first day back to school had been miserable. He didn't speak to me all day, even during lunch. I went straight to the school day-smoking restroom, my anxiety overwhelming, but he followed me.

"What are you doing in here?" I had asked him as he looked around, obviously unimpressed and confused.

"This looks just like the boys restroom, only without the urinals," he had responded. He leaned against the tile wall, his hands in his jean pockets. "So this is where it all went down, huh?"

I wasn't sure what he was referring to, the smoking, the puking, or the talking, but I knew it was specific to Bella, so I nodded and he nodded in acceptance even though his eyes were trained on the floor.

"Do you have any cigarettes in your bag?" Again, I nodded, not exactly sure where he was going with this, but I pulled them out and he took the pack from my hand, pulling one from the packaging and turning it over and over in his fingers before placing it in his mouth.

"Lighter?" he asked, his hand outstretched, the cigarette bobbing between his lips as he spoke.

I pulled it from my bag and placed it in his hand with a sigh. I didn't really want to give it to him, not because I didn't want him to smoke, but because this wasn't his normal behavior. This was because of Bella, and I didn't know what else his depression would lead him to.

He swiftly lit the cigarette, a swirl of smoke around his face as he inhaled a long drag before a loathing exhale. I quickly hopped up on the toilet to open the window before he pocketed the pack and lighter.

"What the hell, Edward. You don't even smoke," I mumbled. It wasn't about the cigarettes, I had another pack in my tote and I had multiple lighters, I just didn't like seeing him like this, indulging because it reminded him of her. It made me uneasy.

"Nope. I sure don't." He quickly finished the cigarette, tossing the butt in the sink and running the tap. "But I think I might start."

"You shouldn't," I muttered.

"What, every fucking person on this planet can smoke but me?" Edward snorted, pulling another cigarette from the pack in his pocket and lighting it as he had the other. He exhaled, his eyes somber and dull as he picked at the stitches in his hand while the cigarette burned between his lips, the black thread now scabbed over.

I sighed, but Edward just handed me his cigarette. I pulled in the flavor, the smoke forming interesting patterns in the small, dingy bathroom, and exhaled before handing it back to him.

"Fair enough," I said. "I get it." He was calling me a hypocrite, and he was right.

I waited for him to speak next, rubbing the toe of my black boots into a crack in the concrete floor, cigarette smoke still swirling in the air, unsure of what else to say. He hadn't said two words to any of us since he cut his hand. I didn't know if he was embarrassed or pissed or whatever, I just didn't like this monumental void between us.

"Did you know she was leaving?" Edward said after several minutes of silence. I looked up at him, and the pain I saw in his eyes was unlike anything I'd ever witnessed from my brother. He just looked so distraught, his agonized, red-rimmed eyes glassy and creased, his forehead tight with frustration. I let the tears I had been suppressing quietly slide down my cheeks.

I shook my head no, unable to speak for fear of complete emotional breakdown, so instead I wrapped my arms around him while we both wept.

We left early after that, but spent nearly every day in the restroom during lunch, smoking cigarettes and not really talking, just sparse conversation between grieving siblings. It was more comfortable than sitting in the lunch room. At least in here, nobody was staring.

That was another thing. Eventually, everyone at school had found out Bella had left and the rumors started flying. They knew she had been in the hospital, and now that she was gone all kinds of fucking dumbass stories started cropping up. Tyler told Eric during Algebra that he had heard that Bella was pregnant and left to go live in a convent until she had the baby. Jessica Stanley told Lauren during gym that Edward had beaten up Bella and that was why she was in the hospital and that her mom had found out and taken her to live in Florida. Some freshman that I didn't even know had told me one morning that she had heard that Edward was a serial killer and killed Bella and buried her in the woods. I wanted to rip her head off. Instead, I just rolled my eyes and walked away, and continued counting the days until June, when school would be over.

I just didn't know what to do. Edward's behavior kept getting worse. He lived in a zombie-like state, smoking and moping around and adopting a complete disregard for personal hygiene. The cut along his wrist had healed nicely but there was now a scar, a constant reminder of his slip. Edward was so skilled with his knives, it's not like we were dealing with some amateur here. He knew how to handle the blade and he was always so careful. This just wasn't like him. Unless…unless this wasn't really him, unless the psychosis had already begun to invade and we were just writing it off as him being overdramatic. I just kept thinking of that trail of ants and of him sitting on a couch for three fucking days. I couldn't let it go.

I needed answers, reassurance. I needed to talk to Carlisle. I found him in his office late one night, pouring over his books, his blue eyes worn and tired.

I walked into the room but was unsure of how to start my questioning. Carlisle looked up from his book. "Alice! What's wrong?" he had asked.

Why was it always 'what's wrong'? Something was always wrong and I felt heartsick at his assumption, but he was completely accurate. Something was very, very wrong.

"I'm worried about Edward," I said, taking a seat in one of the plush chairs and pulling my knees into my chest. "Is he going to be okay?"

"Your first heartbreak is a deafening sting. It doesn't ever leave you. But this wound will heal, with time." He gave me a small smile but I knew he wasn't being completely honest. I may only be seventeen, but I can fucking read people like shit's written on their forehead. It's a gift, or a curse, depending on the person and situation. Sometimes, I longed for the comfort of ignorance.

I continued to stare at my uncle, my disbelief in his words evident as I glared. I knew he was feeding me a line of bullshit and eventually he sighed, conceding to my skepticism.

"So that's it? He just has to get over it? What if he can't? What if he-" I couldn't say it. What if he ends up like my father? What if he hurts someone? What if he hurts himself?

"What happens now, Carlisle?" I asked.

"Now, we wait and we watch," he said calmly. How could he be so nonchalant about this? My brother was acting so unhinged and Carlisle was just accepting it as some lovesick child's play.

"That's it? We're going to play passive again? The last time we did this he almost O.D'd on painkillers. He's going to hurt himself, Carlisle," I said exasperated, my eyes beginning to mist over. Fuck! I was so tired of crying.

"I know, Alice. I know. You don't think I've felt this same panic? I'm just as scared as you are. I'm going to phone a colleague of mine in the morning, a psychologist, and I will see what he has to say about the matter, but the truth is, I don't have the answers you're looking for. Not yet," Carlisle stressed, his voice wavering under the duress, and I was taken aback by the uncertainty in his words. I realized this must be difficult for him too. Carlisle had watched my father fall apart, he might be reliving that misery all over again.

"What was it like? With my dad. Was he ever like this, like Edward? What…what was he like?" I was suddenly intent on knowing every little detail concerning this disease and how it had manifested itself in my father. I had seen the psychosis first hand, I had seen that glazed look in my father's eyes, detached and flat. But I hadn't known him when he was just a man, when he was charismatic and brilliant and won the affections of so many.

Carlisle paused, his face creased as he pondered my questions. I had never asked for this information before, I had never really wanted to know, actually. When everything had first happened, Edward and I attended some counseling. Edward started acting out and I started acting in. I internalized all my fears and all my pain and I cut myself off from that life. It had just seemed easier that way, and I was able to cope. I went to the counseling but I never allowed myself to attach to that life again. I poured myself into being proactive. I learned how to do stuff, learned how to sew, how to read cards. I learned everything I could about Tarot and Astrology, immersing myself with solutions and predictions, trying to protect today and the future instead of worrying about the past. It was a clean break, and I had benefited from the lack of knowledge.

Until now.

Now I was ignorantly making judgments about a situation I knew nothing about. The extent of my knowledge about schizophrenia only spanned what Carlisle had told us and what I had seen as a child. Edward had discovered the fact that it could be genetic or triggered by recreational drug use, and that developing the disease could be stress related. But to me, they were all could be's, non-conclusive and based on the individual. Just like my cards, nothing was set in stone, right? The future was always changing.

"Well, your father was my best friend as well as my brother. We were very close. He was very much like Edward in that he had a flare for the theatrics. He liked to make a statement, that's for sure. I remember the day he met your mother, actually. I think I was sixteen or so and we were at a park that had a community pool. He was going to jump from the high dive to try to impress her but when he got to the top he chickened out. He had to climb back down the steps, and he was mortified. I remember your mother telling him she thought his decision was very sensible." Carlisle smiled, the recount of their childhood together in Chicago enthralling. I had known my parents had gone to high school together, but other than that my knowledge of how they met and everything about them before they were my parents was limited.

"I remember how he was diagnosed. I had just started college and he came to visit me at my dorm. It had been raining and he had walked to my school, thirteen miles from the house. He was sopping wet and freezing but I remember that blaze in his face. He was so confident, so sure of himself. Anyway, it was well past midnight and we weren't allowed to have visitors and here comes my seventeen year old brother, waving around a revolver he had stolen, using it to blow the lock off the front door. He broke in, rushed to my room, and started tearing the place apart. He said they were listening and they would come for me. At this point, I wasn't sure what the hell he was talking about. It was the early-eighties and I honestly couldn't tell if he was on one of his tirades about government spies or social injustice. And he had always been fond of recreational drugs, marijuana, cocaine, hallucinogens, we all did it. I just thought he was high and being overdramatic." Carlisle spoke in a low, quiet voice.

I swallowed at the mention of the word which had been applied to my brother over and over again.

"I had no idea, Alice. He was arrested for breaking and entering, and a psychologist confirmed what we never expected to hear. Mental illness. Schizophrenia. He was put on meds and went to therapy, and things got better for a while. At this point, I was his only family and so I took responsibility for him. Your father was a brilliant man, Alice. But he was arrogant. He thought he could control the disease. He went off his meds and end up beating some poor bastard to within an inch of his life, a completely random stranger for no reason. Your mother couldn't handle him at all and he was dangerous to everyone around him, so I called the police. I wanted him thrown in jail.

Your mother was furious with me. But he went back on his meds and everything would be better, until it happened again. Eventually, I realized I couldn't help him. Your mother hated me because I was constantly interfering. My brother didn't want me in his life, he thought I was out to ruin him. So I left Chicago, for his sake and mine, or so I thought. And I didn't hear from him nor hear anything about him until I got the phone call that he was dead." I sat dumbfounded, reliving this pain, reliving my uncle's pain, because I knew this all too well.

I couldn't help my brother. I couldn't help Bella. And it killed me because everyone around them could see the choices they should be making. All of us knew what they should do, but that didn't mean that they would or that they even could. Love does fucked-up things to people. It makes you completely insane and irrational, taking even the most driven and emotionally stable beings, like my mother, and turning them into coddling enablers, and half the time, you don't even know it's happening.

"I will talk to him in the morning and we will see what our next course of action should be," Carlisle said. "For the record, I don't think Edward has schizophrenia. I think he has your father's passion and brilliance, but he makes irrational decisions sometimes. He's depressed and heart broken and I'm sure that given some time, this will resolve itself. But since it is a threat, and I know it worries him so much, we'll take all necessary precautions. I promised your brother if the time came, I would take care of everything. I promised I would protect him, and I intend on following through with that promise."

Carlisle did set up an appointment for Edward to meet with his psychologist friend, surprisingly upon Edward's request. He went to three sessions and when it was evident the doctor wasn't going to give Edward meds, he bailed. I knew what he was doing, he didn't want help, he just wanted drugs. He thought he was so discreet, he thought he was fooling everyone, but I could see right through him, his intentions glowing in bright neon, the most offensive hue of denial.

Desperate for self medication, Edward started drinking again. I had found him in the upstairs bathroom passed out on the floor with vomit all over the fucking place. The first time I had Jasper drag him to his bed and I cleaned up his mess, but the second time, I let him sleep on the floor. He told me he had the flu and I started to get pretty upset, because now he was lying about it. I confronted him and he moved out, away from Carlisle's watchful eye, away from me, and into Charlie's house with Rosalie and Emmett and the baby. I begged Carlisle to make him come home, to cut him off financially, take his car, anything, but like Carlisle said, it wouldn't have mattered. Edward had money, money our mother had left for us for college, money that we could access when we turned eighteen. He didn't need Carlisle anymore.

"I don't know what else I can do, Alice. Emmett and Rosalie are keeping a close eye on him. Trust me, Rosalie isn't going to let him get away with anything," Carlisle had said, and I felt better knowing Rosalie was watching out for him, if not for his own benefit, for her family's.

But then graduation came and Carlisle found out Edward's grades had plummeted. Edward failed English. He failed, like with an F. Luckily, he hadn't really needed the credit and was only taking the class so he could drive Bella to and from school.

I think Carlisle had thought Edward would be able to get over Bella, or at least be able to compartmentalize his suffering like he had in the past, but this time it was different. Edward wasn't doing anything with his time. He either slept or sat on the fucking couch watching television. Every so often, he'd leave and we wouldn't see him for hours.

Once, he disappeared for two days, and it eventually came out that he had slept in his car at the beach because he had been too wasted to drive home. Another time, he had gotten into a fight with some guy in a parking lot over something completely ridiculous. He came home with a fat lip and a black eye. He would take off running and come home hours later, drenched in sweat and collapsing on the porch from exhaustion. He went grocery shopping but he hardly cooked anymore, preparing meals only if we asked him to. He would oblige, but it was like he was hardly even here. There was no fire, no passion in the act like before. He was still smoking, stealing my pot when he thought I wasn't looking. I asked him about it so he just started getting it from my supplier directly. And then there was the drinking. Emmett had tried to keep it under control, to the extent of drinking and smoking with him so he would stay home, but nothing was helping, none of it was getting any better, and it was now the end of June.

I was trying to spend my free time with Edward, reminding him that he still had us, a family that loved him and were worried about him. We'd play cards, chess, video games, anything really, just to get his mind off Bella. He'd play, but he just always seemed so detached, so vacant. Even now, he was kicking my ass in cribbage and he hadn't even gloated once. He just sat there, mindlessly placing his cards and fully engrossed in his dreamlike state.

Then the mail came. And Edward woke up.

I signed for Rosalie's package because I wanted to know what would be sent to Edward and Rosalie both at an address that wasn't really registered to either of them. When Edward opened his envelope and that rectangular slip of paper fluttered to the table, I froze. Bella still thought he'd be going to school, but we'd all kind of figured that was on the backburner at this point, if not forgotten altogether. Regardless, I wouldn't trust Edward to go anywhere in his condition, not only because of the threat of mental illness, but because he was completely self-destructive right now and I just didn't put anything past him at this point. I honestly didn't know how far he would go to drown out his heartbreak, I didn't know the depths of his depression. The drugs, the alcohol, the self-destructive behavior, even suicidal tendencies, none of it was off the table anymore, and the thought of what he might do if left completely alone in an unfamiliar city seriously scared the shit out of me.

Bella was wishful thinking, underestimating how much she meant to Edward, underestimating his devotion to her if she honestly hoped he'd be able to get over her and continue with the life they had planned together. Maybe she thought Edward would be able to do it just because she asked, and this may have worked in the past. But not now, not now that his heart was broken and shattered all over hell.

She had sent Jasper and I checks too, and the house went to Rose and Emmett. It was generous and cowardly. Why couldn't she come back to tell us herself? Why send a courier? This seemed like important shit, shit you need a lawyer to procure, shit you need to make sure is carried out according to your wishes. I wished she would, for one moment, just see herself clearly, see what she meant to this family and what she really meant to my brother. And I just wanted my best friend back.

It was this thought that I was stewing on when Edward raced out the front door. He was in no condition to drive, his emotions flooding. He thought she had given up, that she was never coming back, and I agreed it did seem to be the case. I mean, that's the kind of thing people do before they die, they give away all their shit. Did Bella think she was going to die? Did she _know_ she was going to die? Oh God, Edward must be panicking and it only dawned on me what he must be thinking after he had peeled out of the driveway and disappeared in a silver flash down the pavement.

I immediately called Carlisle and he called the police department. There wasn't much they could do until he was missing for more than twenty-four hours, but this was somewhat of a novelty to us. When Charlie had been Chief, he always seemed to find Edward before he got into trouble. Now that he was gone, we'd have to wait like everyone else.

I was in my room pouring over old readings of cards I had pulled in the last two months, and Jasper strummed his guitar, perfecting a few new songs he was working on as he sat on my bed.

Death. It was always there, almost every reading signaled the end. Death is a tricky card to read because right away it evokes panic. But it's not as foreboding as it seems. It can simply mean the end, or a transition. It can mean putting the past behind you, or shedding old ways and eliminating the excess in our lives. It can mean change, the forging of a new path. Death is the inevitable and is happening continually throughout our lives, at many levels of existence, whether it is the sloughing of dead scabbed skin to make way for the new, or laying old fears and pains to rest so that we may bask in newfound emotional freedom. To grow and move, we must set aside those ancient hurts, perish the old and find rebirth in the new.

No, Death was not something to recoil from, it was downright necessary. And it was here, always in Edward's future. I had always thought Bella had been Edward's "death", that she was his change, his new path, the reason he was able to let his fear of schizophrenia fall away. It was only now, as I waited to find out what kind of destruction my brother had found tonight, the anxiety only quelled by the falling of cards and the strumming of a guitar, that I realized I may have been completely wrong in my interpretation.

I closed my eyes, the possibilities of every horrible thing that could happen flashing through my head. I thought of the packages we had all received today, the house that was no longer Bella's, the money that Bella had sent to make sure we were comfortable. _Had_ Bella given up? Was it possible that the Death here in my lap could very well mean _death_? Oh, God, what if my metaphorical musings were all wrong, what if-

A chime from downstairs sounded, the house phone ringing through the large house. Jasper silenced his guitar and I froze, trying to hear Esme on the phone downstairs.

I could only make out her voice, but I knew something was horribly, horribly wrong. The hushed tone and frantic tenor sent a shocking warning up the stairs. I moved to sit by Jasper, panic now causing my hands to shake, and he folded his hands over mine as we heard Esme trudging up the steps. She was coming to tell us and I braced myself for the worst, the image of a dark skeleton knight on a white horse flashing behind my eyes.

Finally, she reached the landing and she appeared in my doorway, her ruby eyes overwhelming the soft blue. The room swayed around me, her voice fading into hollow echoes.

"There's been an accident."

...

Yes, but you already knew that, didn't you ;)

Title is from "The Circle Game"

Love bbs, all you need is love...


	32. Maybe I'll Go to Rome

**Darlings**,

Thank you for taking the time to listen to Alice. As one lovely reader pointed out, this point of view is often neglected: the observer, the family member that has to watch as their loved ones destroy themselves and as much as those directly involved are afllicted, so are those that love them.

**n7of9 **is my hero and she fixes things up real nice like. Thank you bb, I love you big time.

Disclaimer: I don't own it.

**CH 32- "Maybe I'll Go to Rome"**

**EPOV**

_Ring…ring…_

Please let it be Carlisle.

"Hello?" A soft voice answered and I almost hung up. I was silent for what seemed like an eternity, trying to force myself to speak.

"Hello?" Another long pause as she waited and I could almost see her face scrunching with frustrated confusion. "Edward?"

"Yeah, it's me," I mumbled into the receiver, humiliation now replacing my fear as I came to terms with what I was about to tell her. She didn't deserve this. She had offered me her family, trusted me, comforted and loved me, and I had betrayed every good she bestowed upon me. Oh God, this was going to kill her.

"Edward! Where are you? Nevermind. It doesn't matter. Come home, please." It wasn't a request and I would have gladly obliged if I weren't currently being held at the county police station on suspicion of driving while intoxicated.

"Esme, can I talk to Carlisle?" I pleaded through a splitting headache. I pinched at my temples, trying to abate the maddening pound of intoxication, all to no avail.

"Edward, where are you?" she asked tersely. Her relief was beginning to fade into panic, and then anger would set in accompanied by a side of disappointment. I didn't want to have to say the words, not to her. I could tell Carlisle anything, but I never wanted to be _this_ in front of my aunt. It just seemed so disrespectful.

"Edward, answer me right now. Edward?" I couldn't form the words, my throat dry and clogged with remorse.

I heard a sigh on the other end of the receiver. "Carlisle's not here, he's at the hospital," Esme conceded.

Shit! Maybe I should stay in jail. This was the consequence of my idiotic behavior, maybe I deserved to be left to fester in this pile of cinderblocks and disgust.

"Edward, please. Your sister is beside herself." She knew how I could be persuaded, she knew I'd do anything for my sister.

"I'm at the police station. I…I had an accident," I said reluctantly. I was trying to make it pretty by calling it an accident, but accidents don't really exist. It's all just cause and effect, one event set it motion by the previous and triggering the start of the next. Like dominoes. There was nothing accidental about it. I had carefully set the tiles in place, forced them into decorative patterns and intriguing displays, and I had knocked them all down, making one fucking colossal mess.

"An accident? Are you okay? Why are you at the police station?" Esme's voice rang with concern and I clenched my eyes shut. Just tell her, asshole, it's not like she won't find out eventually.

"Yeah, a car accident. Um, I think they're going to arrest me, or maybe I've been arrested, I don't know. But I'm going to have to stay here in jail unless Carlisle or someone comes to bail me out," I rambled, just trying to get the thoughts from my brain to my mouth and out across the phone connection.

"Edward, what the hell is going on?" Esme cursed in a low voice as her panic melted into fear.

"I'm sorry, Esme. I just really need to talk to Carlisle," I responded, my inhale sharp as the pain in my side throbbed. No broken ribs, just cuts and bruises, that's what the paramedic had said anyway. It didn't really matter, I deserved this pain.

"I'll call him at work. Are you sure you're okay?" My exhaustion began to set in, drowsiness a sure side effect of the alcohol.

"I'm fine," I muttered as my vision blurred. I told her where I was and I hung up before I could further embarrass myself.

I was booked for drunk driving and had my license suspended, and my now completely destroyed car was impounded. I was forced to surrender all my possessions, including the folded paper and the ring in my pocket both belonging to Bella, before they dumped me in the holding tank with three far scarier looking dudes than I. I will never forget that night, huddling into myself and trying not to think of the horrendous cesspool of bacteria surrounding the toilet I was puking into. I just waited for Carlisle, a little unsure if he would actually come to get me this time. I really wouldn't blame him if he didn't. I had already caused them so much stress and they didn't need any more of my shit.

In the end he did just that; Carlisle left me in that cell all night and I didn't sleep the entire time I was there. I was so fucking tired too, the alcohol in my system making my eyelids unbelievably heavy, but I managed to hold exhaustion at bay with images I had forced myself to ignore for the past two months. I thought of Bella. She was in Jacksonville, with that woman, and the mere thought caused another wave of nausea that sent me hurling to that obscene steel bowl. Trying to abate the conglomeration of pure hell I felt pounding through my head, I imagined her on the beach in Florida, her hair swirling around her face, her eyes hidden behind large dark sunglasses, her lips pulled into her snarky grin, and I imagined her happy. I really, really hoped she was happy.

Eventually, her lovely face faded and I was left to simmer in my cloudy, incoherent thoughts. I couldn't help but feel that if I had been given the damn drugs that fucking doctor was supposed to give me, all this wouldn't be happening. I would have been sheltered and wrapped in the comfortable veil of chemicals and I wouldn't have panicked when I saw those envelopes, when I heard her name.

_Was_ I just overreacting? Could I have been overreacting this whole fucking time? I couldn't imagine a stress any worse than losing Bella, but according to the psychologist I showed no symptoms of schizophrenia. Was I just depressed and going through a "bad break-up", as he had referred to it?

How could there be no bomb when I felt like I was going to explode? How could this even be possible? For the past four years it was all I had been waiting for, all I had to look forward to, but I realized I hadn't been merely waiting, I had been counting on it. I had been so sure my father's fate would be mine that I had planned my life around it. It was a comfort knowing that I would inevitably become unaware and detached. I spent my time trying to make amends for my future psychosis, trying to take care of my family as much as I could now so that when it was time for them to take care of me, I wouldn't feel so damn guilty.

This disease was who I was, it defined me. It defined my past, my present, and my future. I had witnessed my father's psychosis, felt the sting of his palm against my face and his fingers grip the back of my neck. I had seen him destroy as I have destroyed, watched him cry out in fear and pain and self-loathing as I have, and in all that time I perceived it as normal. My coping mechanisms mirrored his, but could it be possible that my mental health did not?

And then it dawned on me. I had no excuse. I was just a hot-tempered asshole, quick to blame my behavior on an impending psychosis that I had trusted would develop but that I was just beginning to realize might never come.

The entire concept was a whole new level of betrayal.

I might never become schizophrenic, now seeing the likelihood only as prevalent as the improbability. I had no idea how to deal with this shit like a normal person, take responsibility for my actions without blaming my behavior on possible mental illness. I had used it as a crutch, almost as if I looked forward to the onset of the disease because it would at least bring about the end of the pain I had gone through over losing my parents.

I didn't know how to handle this and I felt a foreign emptiness settle in my chest. I felt abandoned. The attachment to my maybe mental illness had served as an attachment to my parents, it linked me to my father, the only link I really ever had to him, and now it was gone.

And I was alone.

The power of this thought resonated off the cold cinderblock wall at my back and for the first time tonight, I felt frightened. I wasn't scared of this place or of those scary looking fuckers sharing my cell. I wasn't scared of what my family was going to say when I got home. I was worried about how I was going to do all this shit on my own. How was I going to get over Bella? How was I going to move on and live a normal life? How could I get past all this shit?

_Could_ I get past all this shit? Could I do any of this, breathing, moving, living, all without her?

I truly didn't know. And it scared the fuck out of me.

Carlisle came alone to pick me up the next day. He waited patiently while they returned my things, his eyes watching as I folded the letter and placed it back in my pocket and widening slightly as he recognized my mother's ring, which also resumed its former position. He hardly spoke and I waited until we were in the car before I began my apologies.

"Um…Carlisle," I started, unsure how I was going to get this out. "I'm sorry, for everything," I said.

Carlisle just glanced at me for a second, the big black Mercedes gliding along the long stretch of highway. He didn't respond.

"And thank you, for coming to get me. For everything," I continued, still waiting for him to say something, anything. I almost wished he would yell at me or some shit because this passive aggressive silent treatment was really causing my skin to crawl.

"I'll pay you back," I bargained, trying to evoke some kind of emotion now. "I'll make it up to you, to Esme. To everyone. I'll do whatever it takes for you guys to trust me again."

Carlisle looked sharply at me now, his blues eyes spinning with disappointment. I had let them all down. They had trusted me and I had lied, I had stolen, and I had failed them all. This was all on me. The alliance I had forged with mental illness so long ago was now severed. I had no one to blame but myself. It was all on me, my choices, my behavior, and now my repercussions.

"Edward, I appreciate your apology and your thanks, but this is your life. This is permanent, and you will have to deal with the consequences," Carlisle said in a quiet authoritative voice. "I'm not going to pretend that this is all okay. Drinking and driving is a serious offense and you're so, so lucky nobody else was hurt by what you did."

I nodded, staring at my hands as he spoke.

"But, Edward, you don't owe us anything. We will love you no matter what, and when you make mistakes, we will help you pick up the pieces. But you owe it to yourself to do what's best for your future. You're an adult now and you have to ask yourself if this is what you want your life to be. Do you find pride and happiness in this haze you've been walking around in?"

I thought he was being rhetorical but he waited for my response, so I thought about his question. What _did_ I want my life to be? I knew the answer to that two months ago but now none of that mattered. I just didn't care about pride or happiness, I didn't want to think about trying to move on or what my new life could look like. I wanted my old life back, where everything stemmed from her, I wanted it all back. I wanted her back.

But that wasn't an option. I dared not say that shit to Carlisle, it would just make me sound pathetic and pouty, like a four-year-old throwing a fit with foot stomping and arm crossing and complete with a sour expression. I haven't felt proud or happy in months. Even cooking brought me little enjoyment. No, I was definitely not content in this haze.

"I'm not happy like this, Carlisle, no. I just…I don't know…" I mumbled.

"You're really not supposed to know yet. You're nineteen, you have time to figure all this out. The culinary academy will always be there. Lots of kids take a year off to find themselves, you have options, Edward." Carlisle was trying to make me feel okay about being a completely unmotivated tool. It wasn't working.

I knew the options, I just didn't want them. Maybe I was stubbornly holding out for a life that would never happen. Maybe I was just delusional and thought she might come back. I wasn't still in Forks in case she came back, I was afraid to leave because I might forget. I might forget that I had once been the most fulfilled person on the planet. I might forget the way I felt when I was with her, like I could do anything, like for once I could be completely comfortable, like I belonged. I didn't want to forget that and I feared that if I left, if I moved on, it would fade like a dream, the details becoming muddled and all of it blurring together into a general idea of what had been.

I couldn't let that happen to us. Us, that's what we were, Bella and I, the only us that made sense. As long as I breathe there would be a hope for us. I don't care if it's foolish or unrealistic or pathetic. This is what I want my life to be.

We rode the rest of the way home in silence. I had been given a court date for my arraignment and there would probably be a trial after which I could face more jail time, but right now I just wanted to sleep. My mind and body both exhausted and bruised, I fell into my bed immediately upon arriving at Carlisle's. It wasn't really my room anymore, I had taken most of my clothes when I had left, but it was a place I knew I could always rest.

…

The next morning I awoke to the smell of bacon wafting through the vents. Maple bacon. Even on the third floor the aroma was potent and caused my stomach to grumble with hunger.

I showered, trying to wash away the filth of that disgusting holding cell and the grime from the pitiful bar. I stood under the scalding water and let the spray burn my skin until my fingers were wrinkled and the water ran cold. I thought about my night in the cell and about how my life was now my own, no longer under the direction of impending schizophrenia, and I had no idea what to do with myself. What did this mean for my future? Where do I go from here? Do I move on, go forward? It seemed impossible to me to even make an attempt.

I walked into to the kitchen to find Esme at the stove attempting to make crepes. She held the spatula in her hand as she gently scraped the thin circle in the pan, the room a mixture of delicious smells from the maple syrup, eggs and vanilla, and my heart clenched as I was reminded of the night Bella slept on the couch. I staggered at the doorway and clutched the wall to maintain my balance. I didn't know if I could do this.

"Edward! I'm so glad you're up! Do you think you could help me out here? These crepes keep sticking to the pan and tearing. I've already eaten the half dozen that I've ruined," Esme said sheepishly, and I gave her a small smile. She was trying to get me to cook, a distraction, something to get my mind off previous events. And I had to admit, I was a bit thankful for it. Yes, cooking had been my coping mechanism as well, a positive way to deal with the stress of everyday life.

"You need more oil in the pan," I said quietly, and I tried to take the spatula from her hand but she pulled it back. Her soft eyes blazed into mine with a look of pure determination and fierceness, a mama lion scolding her cub.

"Don't you ever do that to me again. Do you understand me, young man? Ever!" She pointed the spatula at me to emphasize her words, and I nodded, unable to keep her intent gaze.

"Good." She kissed my cheek, her pleasant demeanor returning as she pulled the plates from the cabinet. Oil sizzled in the pan as I poured a thin layer of batter into the hot skillet.

"Rosalie and Emmett are bringing the baby over this morning for breakfast," she hummed as she set out the silverware and glasses.

Great. The whole fucking family will play witness to my humiliation. I hadn't seen my sister yet and I didn't feel like dealing with the interaction today. Small bubbles popped on the surface of the batter and I flipped the round batter once before dumping it onto the plate which housed the rest of the torn crepes.

"Everything's ready if you can't wait to eat. I'm sure they would understand," Esme murmured before taking the place settings into the dining area. She was giving me an out and I would gratefully take it. The thought of an entire meal with Emmett, Rosalie and my sister seriously caused my stomach to churn.

I finished crafting the crepes before taking a plate upstairs to my room, passing Alice on the stairs. She looked right at me and said nothing. She was pissed alright. Fuck, this was going to be worse than I had anticipated.

Alice ignored me for an entire week before we hashed it out. I stayed at Carlisle and Esme's for a few days but I missed the comfort of that musty old couch. I couldn't stop thinking about my father, my newfound realizations spinning around in my head. I was eating a bowl of cereal at the kitchen table at Rosalie and Emmett's when she brought over a large box filled with the rest of my stuff.

"I'm taking the third floor room so here's the rest of your shit. Oh, and you owe me money for all the weed you stole from me." She dropped the box on the table with a thud and I paused mid chew as she turned and left, her hair bouncing as she huffed from the room and out the front door. I took another bite, assuming she had already left, when I heard the front door slam again.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" she yelled, marching back into the kitchen with her hands on her hips and her green eyes furious and determined. "Do you realize what a selfish asshole you are being? You could have killed someone. You could have killed yourself and you don't even fucking care. How the hell can you sit there and be so fucking calm about this?" My sister paced in the kitchen, her black Docs squeaking against the hardwood flooring.

"Alice, I'm sorry, I...you don't have to worry about me," I tried to get out. I understood her anger completely. For so long I had used schizophrenia as a scapegoat, as a way to excuse my destructive patterns of behavior, but Alice had never fully accepted my excuses. She hadn't accepted the marred fate for herself either, even though our blood flows with the same genetic material. She had accepted responsibility for her own actions long ago, choosing to be fully aware and engaged in her choices rather than sitting back and waiting for the blade to drop. And she had dealt with her fair share of injuries as well, but that is where the difference laid, she had _dealt_ with them, whereas I had just covered them up and waited for them to bleed out. Not anymore. It was time to stitch this shit up.

"What do you mean, I don't have to worry about you? You're all I have to worry about! You drove your car into a fucking tree! Every time you leave the house I think it's the last time I'm going to see you. I just can't...I can't lose anyone else, Edward." Big fat tears rolled down her cheeks, her dark lashes blinking quickly in fruitless abatement.

"I know, I know. I'm a fucking idiot. I'm so sorry, Alice." I stood and wrapped my arms around her but she hesitated in hugging me back. Instead, she pushed me away and flopped down in the chair at the table.

"Look, I'm gonna try to be better, okay? I'm..." She narrowed her eyes at me, her warning clear, _do not fucking lie to me again_. I sighed and resumed my seat at the table. "I don't know what to do. I don't know how to be...okay. I don't know how to deal with this shit. How did you do it? How is everything so easy for you? They were your parents too, I mean, you lived this shit too. And you're not completely fucked up," I asked her.

She ran a hand through her hair, her natural copper color appearing in chunks. "I don't know. I cut myself off, I guess."

"Cut yourself off, what does that mean?" I asked confused.

"I chose not to think about it, especially the bad stuff. I forced myself to forget. Every time I thought of them, I'd read my cards or something, trying to focus on right now instead of back then. It's like, I refused to let myself remember anything before that day, like that was another life, and the person I was with all my fears and anxieties, it all died that day with them. Does that make sense?" Her lips quivered as she wiped at her face with the back of her hand. "You know, I can't really remember what she looked like."

"Who, mom?" I asked, shock jolting through me at her statement. Alice nodded, her face crumbling as fresh tears spilled across her cheeks. "Do you want to remember?"

Alice nodded again, her body shaking with grief. I stood and dug through the box she had put on the table. I pulled out the old, heavy book, the pages yellowed and torn and the familiar faces in the pictures now faded with age.

It was our mother's photo album, one of the items I had smuggled from Chicago. I had kept it in my nightstand drawer and had rarely taken it out. Just knowing it was there had given me a sense of security, a connection to my past and what I thought to be a prediction for my future.

My sister's eyes widened as she opened the book. With her hand pressed against her lips, she wept silently with each turn of the page. There were pictures of our parents from high school, our father and Carlisle standing with arms around shoulders, our parents' wedding photo, and then our baby pictures, myself as an infant in my father's arms, my sister in her carrier as I hovered over her. The two of us at birthday parties, holidays, family outings, the snapshots masking the turmoil hidden within.

"Oh God, I remember that day," she said in a hushed whisper as she touched our mother's face on the page. It was the three of us standing in front of the pink miniature rose bush that our mom had planted the year before. She was so proud of those damn roses that she made our dad take our picture in front of them. My sister and I stood side by side with our mother's arms draped over our shoulders, and I could almost smell her earthy cedarwood and lilac, and I remembered what it felt like to be held against her soft body.

"It wasn't all bad, you know?" I said as tears stung my eyes, and Alice nodded, her finger tracing the outline of the photo.

"I miss her," my sister mumbled, and I wrapped my arms around her again. This time she returned the favor, her arms around my waist as she blubbered into my shirt. "I miss him too, I miss how it felt to be a family."

I knew how she felt. Even though our lives had been miserable, it hadn't always been bad. Our father had good days, we all had good days and the photos were proof of that. Even if it was just for a split second, we had been loved. He didn't have a choice any more than I had. When I was in that jail cell, feeling every bite of betrayal and the abandonment and fear of not knowing what my future held, I realized that I had always accepted my father's fate as my own, but I had never accepted him as a man. I had never accepted the fact that my father was just a man, burdened by an illness that tortured the people he loved. And he did love us. He just wasn't able to always show it. The tears burned in my eyes as I accepted my father for what he was, that same acceptance that had been offered to me time and time again. I accepted my father, and I forgave my mother for loving him.

For the first time, I apologized for my choices and not for my DNA. I apologized because I had been reckless and inconsiderate and for the first time, I accepted my behavior as my own.

"I miss them too," I said, wiping the snot from my nose. "Fuck, Alice, I'm so sorry for everything."

"Forget it, it's done. Consider it repayment for having to take care of me all those years," Alice said. "Thank you. I'm really lucky to have you as my brother, Edward."

I kissed the top of her head before sitting back down in my chair. "Your hair looks nice."

She ran her fingers through the chin-length bob at the mention. "Thanks, I'm trying out something new."

"Don't you mean something old?" I smirked, remembering the long copper hair she had cut and dyed when we moved to Forks.

"Something like that," she smiled back.

"So, are you really moving into my bedroom or was this just a ploy to come over here and bitch me out?" I asked her, taking my cereal bowl to the sink and dumping the soggy flakes down the drain.

"Why, are planning on coming back?" she asked as she continued to look through the photo album.

"No, I just figured why make the effort to move bedrooms if you guys are planning on leaving soon?" I shrugged.

"Well, Esme wants a room for Charlie but she doesn't want to put him on the third floor, and Jasper's not leaving yet. He gave up the lease on the apartment. He doesn't think this is a good time to leave. He's going to wait until I graduate." She closed the book, picking at the corner of the worn canvas.

"He doesn't think it's a good time to leave? Why? What-" Realization quickly made its way into my brain and I snapped my mouth shut. Me. He didn't want to leave Alice here because of me, in case something happened. He was staying to protect her. From me.

"He just wants to be close in case something happens. I mean, you did smash your car into a tree, Edward," she tried to explain.

"No, I get it. I understand. You don't need me anymore," I muttered. That used to be my job, to protect her and take care of her, but now she didn't need me. It seemed to be the running theme around here.

"I don't _need_ either one of you, I can take care of myself. But I like having you as my brother and my friend. And I kinda like Jasper too." Alice smiled and I returned the favor because I didn't want to upset her, but I was having a hard time gripping this reality. I added it to the monumental list of shit I had to learn to deal with.

The weeks passed quickly and soon I was standing in front of a judge. At the arraignment I was declared a hazard to society, a social miscreant, a troubled youth, and Carlisle's lawyer assured me a _not guilty_ plea was necessary. Thanks to due process, the trial date came quickly and the evidence against me stretched to the fucking ceiling. It was the beginning of September by the time all this shit was resolved, my first-time offense offering some leeway on my behalf.

I served another forty-eight hours in jail. I tried to run recipes through my head in an attempt to pass the time, but I couldn't think about food without thinking about Bella. Eventually, my thoughts turned to my parents and what Alice had said about how she had blocked it all out. There had to be some way to remember them without feeling remorse and pain, so I tried to focus on all the good things I had experienced with them. I thought about my mother's minestrone soup and her miniature roses. I thought about my father sneaking into my room late at night after long hours at the firm to kiss my cheek and run his fingers through my hair. I remembered pretending to fall asleep in the car so he would carry me into the house, just eager to feel close to him in any way possible. I'm sure he knew I was awake, but he'd carry me in anyway. I wondered if this meant he was eager for the closeness too. I was satisfied with thinking that it did.

In addition to the jail time, I had to pay just over a thousand dollars in fines, and my license was suspended for an entire year. All because of that fucking Joni Mitchell song.

I was now officially living with Rosalie and little Charlie and I kept my shit in the downstairs coat closet. Emmett had gone back to Pullman and Alice had started school. Jasper continued to work at the store but he didn't really need to. He had plenty of cash now and with all the money he'd saved as well as their portion of Bella's charitable donation, he and Alice were sitting pretty before starting school in January.

I was still staring at a forty thousand dollar check signed by her. I didn't want it. I had thought about flying to Jacksonville to give it back to her but she had asked me not to find her. It was still hard to exist without her, and without the drugs and alcohol I felt every sting, but I welcomed it all. It reminded me that I was still alive, that I was still here, with a brain that functioned and a heart that thumped in my chest, even though it now thumped for no one. But I was still here. For now.

And yet, despite all the shit I'd been barely surviving through for the past four months, I still loved her. I still wanted her, my very soul craving her touch and her lips and her scent every second of every day. I wanted to know her thoughts, to lose myself in her long, wavy hair. I just wanted to talk to her, hear her funny quips and sarcastic teasing. I missed her. As much as I mourned my lost future and my lost past, I really just missed my lost friend.

...

"Edward! Get up!" Rosalie was shaking my arm and I opened my eyes. I had been lying on the couch for the past two hours, unable to go back to sleep, and now, now that I was finally able to drift off, Rosalie had gone and fucking ruined it.

"I need you to watch Charlie today. Esme has to meet a client this morning and she can't cancel," she said. I threw the afghan off my legs and sat up, scratching at my head.

"Are you seriously contemplating leaving your kid with me? I am a felon," I muttered.

"You were convicted of a misdemeanor. And I have no choice. Now get up, I need to show you what to do," Rosalie patted my head and I followed her into the kitchen, a little freaked out at the responsibility of having to take care of a four-month-old baby all day. Shit! What was I going to do with the kid? I mean, I'd seen Rosalie and Emmett do it every day for the last four months, you'd think by now I'd know what to do, but I'd always just witnessed as a casual observer and never with intent to replicate the behavior. Fuck, I wasn't even sure I could change a shitty diaper. And this kid pooped, like, eight times a day.

"Okay, his milk is in the freezer. Just run it under hot water until it defrosts and then put it in one of his bottles. Make sure you check the temperature. Do not microwave it." Rosalie handed me a frozen bag of milk from the freezer and pulled a bottle from the cabinet. "You might as well get one ready because he's going to be hungry when he wakes up. You can also give him cereal before his first nap. Save like two ounces from his bottle and mix it with that rice cereal in a bowl. Again, no microwave. Just heat the milk under the hot tap before making the cereal."

"Wait a minute, is this breast milk?" I held the bag awkwardly, my eyes narrowed in speculation.

Rosalie rolled her eyes and walked into the living room. "He should have a bottle before each nap, at ten and then at two, but don't give him one after that because I'll nurse him when I get home at four."

I followed her into the living room, a little uncomfortable at the mention of anything boob related.

"His diapers and wipes are in that basket over there and there's stuff upstairs in our room. You can let him play on his tummy, just put down a blanket and spread his toys out. He's rolling everywhere so do not leave him on the couch or bed or anywhere else where he can fall." Rosalie squinted her eyes at me. "Are you going to be okay with this?"

"Yeah, I can do this. If Emmett can do this, I can do this," I pointed out. I fucking hoped I could do this. It was just eight hours and he slept half of that anyway. I could totally do this.

"Okay, I'm going to write everything down in case you forget, and call me or Esme if you need anything," Rosalie frantically scribbled down all her notes before rushing upstairs to finish getting ready for work.

An hour later she was rushing out the door having put the chubby baby into my arms with a kiss on both our cheeks, her heels clicking down the sidewalk to her car and leaving us on the porch. I looked at little Charlie to see a toothless grin on his full face, and I laughed. This kid looked like he knew shit was going down today, like he was going to cause some serious destruction.

"Do you think maybe you could save the pooping until after four?" I asked him, his little hands reaching for my face, his fingers pinching at my nose and lip. "You've already done it, haven't you?"

I moved my nose closer to smell him. Sure enough, the sour smell of shit wafted around my head, and I instantly recoiled. It was going to be a long day.

I changed his diaper and fed him his bottle, being careful not to touch any of the boob milk, and then found all my efforts wasted when he spit up all over my shirt. I spread out a blanket on the floor and let him roll around while I ran upstairs to change, and returned to find he had rolled under the coffee table. I panicked because I thought he was stuck but he just grinned his gums off at me. We watched Discovery Channel until he got cranky and I fixed him another bottle before laying him in his crib. He wouldn't go to sleep, though, and I paced back in forth in Rosalie's room, bouncing him, singing to him, rocking him, but nothing seemed to work. He just kept crying. I tried to feed him again and I put him in a dry diaper, but I just couldn't figure out what the fuck else to do.

And then, as I was pacing the hall, Charlie squirming and wailing in my arms, my eye caught the rocking chair in Bella's bedroom. I hesitated at the door, but Charlie's piercing scream right in my fucking ear propelled me forward into the room. Her scent was still stuck to the plaster, sweet lavender hitting me like a fucking freight train as I took a seat in the chair. I started to rock with Charlie's head on my shoulder as he whimpered and then quieted, the soothing back and forth motion calming his cries and eventually lulling him to sleep. I continued to rock in the chair, engulfed in lavender and baby powder, Charlie's sweet smell blending into the room. I was afraid to move, fearful that he would wake up, so I just stayed in her room looking at the gaping holes in her dresser where the drawers had been.

Fuck, so much of the best and the worst of my life happened in this room, in this house. I allowed myself to remember every day I had with Bella. I remembered our first kiss on the porch, the first time I touched her in this room. I remembered the first time I told her I loved her, in this very chair, when I had braided her hair and promised no goodbyes. I remembered when I found her grieving over her father's dead body, when I found her bleeding on the shower floor, and when I found her gone. I felt every good feeling I ever had with Bella, and I felt all the bad, and I cherished it all.

The cracks in the plaster had been smoothed over with spackle, but they had yet to be painted. The damage I had created was now just a blemish that would soon be covered up and then there would be nothing there, no signs of destruction, no indication of what had transpired in this room. It would be new, fresh, unmarred. I think Rosalie wanted to make this Charlie's room but she was waiting for me to figure out what the hell I was going to do with my life. She had offered the room to me more than once and I had declined, but she hadn't yet claimed it for him. It could be his, a place for him to create his own memories. I thought of my childhood bedroom, with army men and marbles under the bed and the wall mutilated beyond repair, all secured behind a locked door. This was not Charlie's future. His life was a large stretch of white upon which he could paint any color he chose to splash upon the canvas.

And now, I guess, so was mine.

The stunning truth of this realization caused the fear to quicken in my chest again. I had no fucking clue what to do with my future now that the responsibility was all on me.

Eventually, I worked up enough courage to try to lay Charlie in his crib. He was fast asleep, his full face peaceful and serene, so I walked downstairs. I turned on the baby monitor, like I had seen Rosalie do hundreds of times, and found a strange comfort in the quiet hum.

I made myself a sandwich, peanut butter and honey on toast, and settled down in front of the television. I watched and ate, my mind busy some place other than fixated on the impending destruction of global warming or an asteroid sending a cloud of dust into the atmosphere and blocking out the sun. Instead, I thought of Bella. Tomorrow would be her birthday. I thought back to last year and my gift to her, my completed application to the culinary academy. We should have be there right now, in New York, together. I would make her breakfast and I would give her the ring and we would be happy, not perfect, but happy.

Oh God, I still wanted it. I wanted her. Why couldn't I let this go? I knew there wasn't a chance in hell of it happening anymore, the apartment forgotten and all the applications for financial aid shoved in the bottom of that box in the closet. I couldn't fathom the thought of New York without her.

I couldn't fathom the thought of _anything_ without her. It had been over four months and the wound was still as fresh as the day she left. I traced the scar on my palm and down my wrist. The skin had healed but the scar would be here forever. I didn't want to forget, like Alice had. That wasn't an option for me. Some days my memories of her were the only thoughts that got me off the couch in the morning. Yet they were also the ones that forced me to roll over and cover my face and cry into the scratchy old yarn. I didn't have a life, I didn't have a plan, and I didn't even have schizophrenia. I didn't have anything except a box of junk in the coat closet of a house that had once belonged to the girl that I love.

It seemed like everyone else was able to move on and forge ahead while I just kept treading water, barely keeping my head above the surface and not fucking going anywhere but in circles. Sometimes, I wished a swell would just engulf me, swallow me whole and pull me down, down until the last breath in my body was forced out and the euphoria caused by lack of oxygen set in. These were the days I didn't leave the couch but remained entangled in her fucking afghan, like a damn fish caught in a fisherman's net.

Emmett had completely surprised me. He was an adult now, a father, and he really had his shit together. He was doing well in school, loved his classes and excelled in his studies. He was successful in his relationship, even though it was across a great distance. He was very proactive in his role as parent. He changed shitty diapers, he cleaned up spit, he got up in the middle of the night for feedings just to keep Rosalie company. Emmett was a fucking role model and here I was stewing in my own disgust.

Even Jasper had a plan, fucking drug dealing pothead Jasper, and he was following through with it. He knew what he wanted and he would be successful at it. After years of dealing with emotionally negligent parents, Jasper had found his motivation not in proving them wrong but in proving my sister right. He wanted to succeed because she knew he could. He will take care of her, and she will be happy.

Even Bella seemingly was able to forget. By giving up her inheritance and her house, she was able to cut her ties and move on. Why couldn't I? There had been no indication of hope but I still visualized the same occurrence every single day, a brown-eyed girl bursting through the door and sighing in relief as she pressed her lips, her hands, her body, to mine.

I watched the front door for a full minute, like I had a thousand times before, hoping that this time it would be real and this nightmare would all be over.

But it never ended. It was like some predictable horror movie, when the stupid character ends up running directly into the murderer when they should have gone in the opposite direction. Everyone watching gets it. Everyone except the next victim.

There hadn't been any more letters and without my permission my mind wandered into the very darkest of circumstances. What if she couldn't contact me? What if her body had finally given up, wracked with abuse and riddled with deficiencies? What if her body just couldn't take it anymore? I just didn't know and I was left floundering in the dark, lost, alone and unattached. The thought caused a great sob to build in my chest, the anxiety palpable as I tried to regulate my bodily functions.

I pulled my box out of the coat closet and dumped it out onto the floor in the living room, refilling it with my clothes from the closet. I looked at the shit covering the carpet. Amongst the various crap were my chef's coat and my new set of knives, and I quickly stuffed them both into the box. I pulled Bella's letter from my pocket and her monetary donation to the 'educate Edward' fund and tossed them both into the box also.

I knew what I had to do.

I would miss the greenery of Forks and its misty cold on my face and dampness on my hair. I would miss its fresh, woodsy scent of pine and dirt and rain. But I had to do this, not because I wanted to but because I needed to. I would cut my ties here, just like she had done. She had wanted me to be free but I couldn't be free in this place, constantly bound to her memory. I didn't want to forget, but I also couldn't survive being surrounded by reminders of everything I had lost. I pulled the small ring from my pocket, the memento meant for her, and slipped it onto my pinkie. It didn't fit of course, but I left it there feeling comfort in the constriction around my finger.

I visualized Bella's heart-shaped face and her dark hair framing her porcelain skin. I imagined her hands cradling my cheek, holding my hand, brushing through my hair, just urging me to follow through with this. I imagined her healthy and vital, her chocolate-colored eyes creased as her plump pink lips pulled into a lovely, devious grin.

It was time to start making preparations.

…

**BPOV**

My heart is pounding in my chest and I feel like I can't breathe. My hands are shaking and my legs bounce up and down in agitation. This is it, the end. God, I've made so many mistakes, but I can't bring myself to regret any of them. I know now that this is where I am supposed to be and that everything I endured has led me to this moment. I am done with trying, my attempts at normalcy thwarted by my own inability to accept that _trying_ just isn't good enough. This is my first step in _doing_.

It's colder than I remember as I inhale the familiar scents and welcome the sting of cold upon my cheeks, and my feet propel me forward. No looking back, Bella. This is it. Whatever it takes.

It might take a lot.

Before I can even raise my arm to knock on the door of my childhood home, a small body slams into me. Her hair is soft against my face and her arms wrap around me with an unexpected strength, and I'm immediately overwhelmed by sweet organic smells. Tears fill my eyes and I let them spill onto the soft, thin cotton draped over her shoulder.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Alice's cry is fierce in my ear, her melodic voice tinged with frantic disbelief. She pushes me away and runs her hands through her hair, and I see a look upon her face of pure horror as my initial elation fizzles into panic. "He's gone. It's too late."

Gone? How could he be gone? Gone where? I clutch onto her arms to hold myself afloat, the cloudy sky streaked with blue spinning above me.

"Alice, where is he? I have to see him, Alice! Where is he? Tell me where he is!" I'm screaming at her now, my mind searching for explanations and refusing to even acknowledge what the possibilities could be. No, no, no, this can only mean one thing. I fall to my knees, sobbing into the long gauzy skirt of the girl who was once to be my sister, and I beg. I plead and I pray for karma to lessen her retribution just this once.

_Please, I just want to be where he is._

...

**A/N**

Title is from the song _Carey. _

Thank you for reading, my dears.


	33. I'm Coming Home

**Darlings, **

Bella's turn and she's got lots to say.

**n7of9** is beta, always and forever, like Napoleon and Pedro. Go watch it bb, it's better than ice cream.

Disclaimer: I don't own it.

**CH 33 _"I'm Coming Home"_**

**BPOV**

"Bella, get up." Alice's fingers wrapped around my wrists as she tried to pull me up off the floor. I just continued to sob, wiping at my face and nose, and she grabbed my face in her hands, her jade eyes a reminder of everything I had lost because of one monumental decision.

"Bella, Edward's in Italy. He left a month ago, right after your birthday. Of course, you would have known that if you would have bothered to call." Alice's hands dropped from my face, the reunion over. Now came the groveling, and I could tell by the cool crisp tenor of Alice's voice that it would not be brief.

"Italy? Edward's in Italy? He didn't go to New York? What about the academy?" The questions flooded from my lips. I was literally salivating for the information.

"Did you really think he was going to go live at the apartment the two of you were going to share? That you could just leave a fucking note and a check and he would get over it? What the fuck is wrong with you? How could you do that to him? Do you have any idea how destroyed he was? Fuck, Bella, how could you do that to _me_? Or to Rose? This is the most insulting shit you could have pulled." Alice paced on the porch and I waited patiently for her to finish her scolding, knowing that I deserved it but also knowing that she'd never listen to me if she had more to say. So I waited.

"He started smoking pot, you know. And drinking. He crashed his car into a tree because of your damn charitable donations. He thought it meant you were never coming back. He thought you had given up, Bella, that you were going to die in Jacksonville. That is the shit he has been dealing with since you left. We didn't know if you were dead or alive or hurt. I mean, what the fuck were you even doing in Jacksonville?" Alice stood before me, her hands on her hips, her eyes ablaze. I absorbed the shock of it all, the enormity of the repercussions completely shocking the shit out of me. Like a punch in the gut, it knocked the wind out of my defensive sails. I wanted to defend myself but I wanted to make sure she'd had the chance to get it all out, all the poisonous thoughts towards me, all the resentment. I deserved it, and I was here to accept the consequences of my actions, whatever they may be, but not before I had a chance to explain myself.

"Are you done?" I asked politely. Alice narrowed her eyes at me and flopped down on the bench waving her hand in front of her, which I took as a sign to proceed.

"Look, I know what I did was shitty, the way that I left. But I don't regret leaving," I said indignantly as Alice's eyes shot up to hold mine. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves, hoping she'd find it within herself to listen. That's all I was asking for, a chance to explain.

"Alice, I owe you an explanation."

…

I hated her. I lay on that couch with Edward's body warming mine, the mousse burning in my belly, and the emotional high of our beautiful lovemaking tinged with the agony of knowing what had to be done. I was going to hurt him, destroy him beyond repair no matter what decision I made that night. I had two choices: stay and die, killing him along with me, or leave and give him the chance to survive. The decision practically made itself, and the longer I laid there listening to his deep breathing and feeling his chest expand against my back, the more resolved I became.

Just like my mother, I destroy things, and it's her fault. She should be the one to see me waste away right in front of her, demonstrating just how fucking detrimental her selfishness had been. Not them, not him, they didn't need to see me like this, emaciated and broken, damaged goods. No, they didn't deserve this at all. But she did. Oh God, I hated her.

I knew it would hurt, I knew he was going to probably do something drastic, his past destructive behavior looming over my decision, but I hoped that this time maybe our love had proved to him that he didn't need to fear the future. I hoped that maybe he had been altered just enough to allow himself to find the strength to move on rather than self destruct.

I also knew that it wouldn't affect only him, but that I would also be hurting my friends and the only family I had ever known, that I would be losing them as well. But I didn't belong here with them. I felt like a parasite, affixing myself to this family unit and fucking sucking the life right out of them. I felt it in the hospital room after Rose had her baby, the whole family seething with joy while I wallowed in my every failure. I couldn't stand it. I brought nothing valuable to these relationships but took everything that I could, their love, their compassion, their acceptance. It wasn't fair, and I couldn't continue to take when I had nothing to give.

I had no intention of ever coming back. I would let them get on with their lives. I would let Edward have the future he deserved. I always thought he would be with someone exceptional, a lovely, kind hearted soul that matched him in all his potential and not only in his deficiencies. I remember finding comfort in the fact that we both had shitty pasts and fears and insecurities, and we did match, in so many ways, but potential was where I fell short.

I filled my suitcase with my belongings: my bracelet, my Cullen t-shirt, my father's pipe, all trinkets of little value but those which were the very essence of my time here in Forks. I wanted to keep them with me, a constant reminder of what I was leaving behind, of what I was giving up so that I would never forget that for a brief moment in time, I loved and I was loved in return. It would surely never happen again and I was determined to live the remainder of my days subjecting myself to every mental torture known to mankind for what I was about to do. These trinkets would come in handy.

I sat at the kitchen table and wrote him a letter, just as my mother had done. I tried to explain that it wasn't his fault, any of it. That this wasn't because I didn't love him, because I did, oh God, how I loved him, but that he was better off without me. I sat in that kitchen and I sobbed as I realized how Charlie would had felt when my mother left him, and now how Edward would grieve when he found me gone. But I also now realized how Charlie was able to let me go, why he never tried to contact me after he came to Phoenix. He loved me, and it was because he loved me that he was able to give me what he thought I wanted. It was because of my love for Edward that I was able to give him what he didn't know that he wanted: freedom. It was with this hope that I was able to walk out the door, that he would at least one day be free to find peace.

He didn't even stir as I sat down on the couch beside him and brushed the hair from his face, sobbing to the point of nausea while I waited for the taxi I had called. And then I saw the headlights of the cab flash through the window and I left him. Wrapped in my father's flannel and my red wool coat that was now two sizes too big, I walked out the door, my soul dead and numb, leaving him with nothing but a note and hoping like hell it was enough.

It wasn't, of course, because nothing I ever do is.

I spent my flight huddled against the window pretending to sleep but really just hoping I wouldn't fall apart. I remembered the last time I had been on an airplane, I had surrounded myself in Joni and I was running away, just like I was right now. I went to Forks because I couldn't deal with shit in Phoenix. I couldn't deal with my mother or my eating disorder, and I couldn't face my friends, especially Angela. And then my father had given me an out. I didn't have to deal with it, I could just leave and forget it all.

Somehow, I didn't think I'd be able to do the same this time. I didn't leave because I didn't want to deal with anything; I left because I didn't want _him_ to have to deal with _me_. I was giving him an out, letting him off the hook and slipping him back into the waters. I know I will never forget, that he will always be there in everything that I do and say, every experience that I have, hovering in the background of my mind. _"I'm selfish and I'm sad, now I gone and lost the best baby that I ever had…"_

He would have woken up by now, alone, would have read the letter. It was at this thought that I dissolved into a hysterical mess. I don't know if my resolve had clouded my cognition, but I hadn't fully anticipated how bad waking up alone in that house was going to be for him. I felt physically sick at what I had done. I had to remind myself over and over it was for the best, that this was something I could give him, a chance at a normal life. I had a layover in Houston and I almost called Alice, but that would just make me feel better and this wasn't about me. No, clean and swift, these cuts heal best.

Finally, my plane landed at Jacksonville International Airport. I walked out onto the street and the warm weather caused sweat to bead on my forehead. I didn't even really know where my mother lived anymore. I knew it was somewhere near the college, and I vaguely worried if she would even agree to see me. Our last encounter hadn't exactly been friendly, but my mother had this unique ability to get over shit. I never knew how she did it; maybe it was a perk of the delusional, sick world she created for herself, or maybe she just didn't care enough to hold grudges.

I needed to call her to find out where she lived but I didn't have a cell phone anymore, so I found a pay phone. I dreaded the voice I would hear on the receiver and partially hoped she wouldn't be home and I would have to talk to Phil. I knew it was bad when the best option was talking to Phil.

She answered on the second ring.

"Hello?" My mother's voice was bright and giggly and I wanted to vomit at the mere sound of it.

"Hi mom," I muttered, trying not to cry and fumbling to maintain the control I had on the plane.

"Bella?" she asked, confusion and shock heavy in the single word, and I almost snorted at her discomfort. I was pretty obvious in my disgust of her the last time we had spoken, and she hadn't forgotten. Shit, I had been pissed at my father's funeral and that was before I even knew the full extent of her betrayal. It was with this thought that I considered I might have to find somewhere else to live.

"Yeah. Um, I'm in Florida and I wanted to stop by, but I don't know where you live," I said in a rush.

"How could you not know where I live? You're my daughter! Of course you know where I live!" she exclaimed. I didn't know who she was trying to convince, me or herself.

"Nope, I don't. Can you just give me the cross streets and the address. I'm sure a cab driver can find it." I closed my eyes, wishing to fuck she'd just tell me the goddamn address.

"Sure, it's 3 Phelps St., between First and Main. Bella, is everything okay? To be honest, I'd kind of given up hope that you'd ever come to visit," Renee said tersely.

"Okay, I'll be there soon," I said, and hung up the phone. I didn't want to offer her any explanations or give her the chance to question me. I just wanted to curl up into a little ball and disappear.

The cab pulled up to the little blue house and I could smell the ocean air from the front porch. Visions of tide pools and bonfires and cliff cuddling swirled through my mind and I had to grasp the door frame to steady my legs. Oh fuck, how was I going to get through this? Everything reminded me of him, of us. I inhaled deeply, letting the salty air fill my lungs, and I clutched at my heart, my little shrunken heart that beat with a pale thud against my ribs. It hurt. Oh, God, it hurt.

Before I sank too far into my own misery, the door flew open and my mother was standing in the frame.

"Bella!" She engulfed me in a tight embrace, her patchouli perfume so heavy that my eyes swelled at its intensity. My mother pulled me inside and I took the opportunity to assess her new home. It was light and airy, newly built and a lot nicer than I thought it would be. I mean, my mom didn't make a fortune teaching and it wasn't like Phil contributed to the monthly income in any substantial way. I guess my leaving lessened the financial strain a bit. I just figured she'd blow the extra cash on whiskey or pot.

I sat on her couch, the same one we'd had in Phoenix, and I ran my hand over the familiar fabric. My mother sat in an overstuffed chair across from me. Like a shark circling, I could see her dark eyes darting excitedly across my face. She smelled blood in the water.

"So? How are you? Are you eating? How long are you staying? Are you still with that boy, what was his name, Edmund?" My mother sat on the edge of her chair, practically drooling over the anticipated information and completely disregarding any animosity I had shown her in Forks. I was in her territory now, and the fact that I showed up here indicated my admitting defeat in her eyes.

"Ed…Edward," I stuttered, my chest tightening and bile burning in the back of my throat. I hadn't eaten anything since the mousse but I felt no comfort in the nagging grumbling in my belly. This slight pain was easily overshadowed by the aching pulse in my chest threatening to send me into hyperventilation at any moment.

"Um, can I have a glass of water or something," I asked her, swallowing back the nausea and wiping at the damp sheen slick on my forehead with the back of my hand.

"Sure," Renee said as she left the room through a doorway, to the kitchen I presumed, before she returned with a glass of water. I sipped the cool liquid, feeling the icy trail through my chest.

"You look awful. Do you want to go lay down for awhile? Maybe you're tired from the travel." Renee crossed her arms in front of her body as she stood in front of me, and I nodded, my exhaustion too thick to ignore any longer. I left my suitcase in the living room but grabbed my father's flannel as I followed her down the hall. She led me to a small room filled with her painting supplies. There was a small futon in the corner, covered in canvas and paper, clippings from magazines, photos, pictures of paintings, all of them my mother's inspiration. I waited while she cleared the bed by tossing her shit aside, and she pulled a blanket from the linen cabinet in the hall. I wouldn't need the blanket; it was practically eighty degrees outside, a cool breeze sending the salty air streaming in through the window.

She left me then and I closed the door behind her before erupting into a silent sob. I let the tears fall and muffled my cries with the flannel shirt, my entire body shaking until I gasped for air and my head pound with pressure. I curled up on the uncomfortable bed, longing for Forks, longing for the afghan, and wishing like fuck I could just go back to this morning and sleep in, drown in the comfort of Edward's arms wrapped around me and his breath tickling my neck, the tidal movement of his breathing beckoning me to sleep.

…

The bright lights of morning streamed in through the open window, a slight breeze causing my hair to wisp around my face, my scalp tingling and reminding me of a time when Edward's fingers pulled through my tresses. I groaned and covered my head with the blanket and turned toward the wall. The temperature had dropped overnight and a cold chill had seeped in through the window, so I wrapped the flannel shirt tightly around my shoulders. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to block out the god-awful light. Renee hadn't let me hang up any curtains, she said she needed the natural light for her paintings.

Weeks had passed, months maybe, and I had stayed in her painting room, lying on the most uncomfortable slab of cushion and straining to hear the waves of the ocean crashing along the shore. I had learned the beach was more than a mile away and it was ludicrous to think I could hear the waves from that far, but I tried. I strained, I held perfectly still, and cursed when a fucking car outside would disrupt my concentration. It gave me something to focus on besides how I had hurt everyone who ever meant anything to me.

My mother had tried to make me enroll at the local high school so I could at least graduate, but I quickly vetoed that idea. I didn't want to start over, I didn't want to do anything. I just wanted to be left alone. Besides, it didn't matter, I had no use for a high school diploma. That accomplishment was for people who had a future, people who were going to go on to be successful members of society, and I had no plans to be any part of society.

Living with Renee and Phil again was a delicate balancing act. I avoided them, waiting until they left in the morning before venturing out of the room. Phil had taken a job working the batting cages at a park nearby and was gone most days, and Renee was teaching classes five days a week, so I pretty much had the house to myself. Not that it mattered; I rarely left the painting room. Some days I'd imagined myself living in her unfinished art, in the black and white charcoal drawings of children on the beach, or the watercolor monochrome landscapes of the ocean. This made existing manageable. _"I am a lonely painter, I live in a box of paints…"_

But then I started receiving Alice's emails. I couldn't read them at first. I didn't want to think about how I'd hurt them. I was still holding onto the belief that my leaving had been for the best, but then I received an email from Carlisle and it threw me off. I thought the worst, of course, as my mind ran through scenarios where Carlisle would need to contact me. I opened the email and the moment I read Alice's words, it all came flooding back to me, the feeling of family, of acceptance. Alice was my best friend and I had abandoned her as well. I hated myself for it, but I read every email after that, searching for clues to set my mind at ease and fearing the ones that would crush me beyond belief. She never mentioned Edward directly, but I read them over and over, the link reaffirmed, even if only in my head.

On more than one occasion I had almost written back. I had typed out full emails explaining myself, begging for forgiveness, but I never sent them. It just didn't feel like it was enough, like nothing I could say would excuse my behavior or make everything alright. So, instead of an email, I sent them money.

Ridding myself of the house was somewhat selfish. I didn't want to go back there, to the place where this hellish journey all began, and I had seen the way Rosalie had transformed my father's room. If anyone could turn that miserable house into a home, it would be Rosalie, and if I could help her in any way, if this house made things any easier on her, then she should have it. She deserved a place to raise her child, a sanctuary where she could teach her baby about love and family. I smiled to myself as I thought of a young Charlie poised in the corner, his mischievous spirit evident even before he'd joined this world, and this was subsequently followed by an unbearable ache in my chest as I realized I'd never know him.

I called my father's lawyer and had him take care of the paperwork. He had it sent to me overnight and I had to have it notarized and sent back. Thank God for Google because I had no fucking clue what that meant. I made an appointment, signed all the necessary paperwork, and just like that, my childhood home was no longer mine. _"So I signed all the papers in the family name..."_

The checks were a bit easier to negotiate. I just went to the bank and had them make out three cashier's checks, draining nearly every penny from Charlie's checking account. I didn't want the money but if I needed to I could cash in one of Charlie's numerous investments. Plus, I was still getting a monthly check from his pension. I just wanted to give them something, like maybe this would make it up to them, like I could somehow pay them back for all they'd given me and for all that I'd taken. At least I could help them out with school, or something, and maybe, just maybe, Edward would still go to New York. I couldn't stand the thought of him giving that up and that my leaving would have all been for nothing. We had originally planned that I would work so he could go to school but now he would need income for rent and living expenses and I wouldn't let him give up because of money. Maybe the check would be incentive, or maybe he'd just do it for me. I didn't know, but I had to try.

I didn't sleep much, the exhaustion kept at bay by the sorrow boiling in the pit of my stomach. Some nights I relived every moment I had with him, every kiss, every touch, every giggle. Sometimes, I would create new memories, imagining us in New York on the subway or traipsing through Central Park. I would cry myself to sleep these nights, wondering if he was still planning on going to New York and hoping like hell he would be strong enough not to give up on himself, that he would succeed where I had failed.

I couldn't bring myself to eat the meals my mother prepared, like accepting nourishment from her would admit my acceptance of her. Of course, she was mortified by my appearance. She had tried at first to force me to eat. She started with insults, sarcastic quips about my protruding shoulder blades and sunken cheeks, thinking she could shame me into eating. Unfortunately, this only works on people who care what they look like, and I really didn't, my disgusting appearance was the least of my offensive attributes and, if anything, the packaging matched the product. Broken and weak, a pitiful excuse for a human, my appearance warned people of what I was: void and empty.

Then Renee bribed and begged, using her passive aggressive bullshit with the hope of persuading me to eat, but I found I felt no guilt or remorse over hurting my mother. It was actually incredibly gratifying to cause her some distress. Eventually, she gave up. I knew her maternal instinct would only last so long; Renee never really had any staying power. So she gave up, and I abstained. I ate enough to sustain the sedentary lifestyle I'd adopted, mostly toast or crackers, and once in a while a banana or something, just enough to get her off my back.

Yet in the hunger I no longer felt comfort, the emptiness just leaving me hollow instead of resolving the pain I felt in my heavy heart. This was bit of a shock to me. The grumbling in my belly had always made me feel better, comforted, the pain of hunger a distraction from the pain in my chest. But now nothing could distract me from the burden in my soul, not even the smell of my father's sweet tobacco.. Edward's darkened features burned in my brain when I thought of how I had hurt him over and over again. I couldn't get the image out of my mind and I just couldn't understand why I couldn't find anything to distract me from this misery.

I couldn't understand, that is, until she cooked marinara.

She knew it was my favorite. She knew I couldn't resist that aroma. She also knew it reminded me of my father.

I was fucking furious, and I marched down the hall when I smelled the garlic wafting through the small house. Marinara belonged to my father, it was his. How dare she try to defile it by associating herself with its aroma! No, I didn't want to think of her when I smelled this sweet scent. It was petty and stupid to act this way over sauce, but I didn't care. This was his, this was mine, marinara did not belong to my mother.

"What the hell do you think you are doing?" I spat at her venomously. She was standing at the stove and she startled at my sharp tongue.

Her vacant eyes blinked and she pursed her lips as she assessed my rage. "Well, look who decided to join the living." She turned back to the stove. "Why don't you go get in the shower, you look like death warmed over."

"Why are you doing this?" I asked her through gritted teeth. I could feel myself boiling over with ever stir of her pewter ringed fingers and I wanted to yank the spoon right from her hand. I wanted her away from my father's marinara. She'd just ruin it like she ruined everything else.

The passage of time had cleared my head and now that I was no longer under the duress of constantly worrying about the damage I was doing to everyone around me, I was able to focus on why I was here.

Why was I here? When I left Forks, this was really the only place I could think of to go. I wanted my mother to know exactly how she had ruined me. She should have been the one to find me unconscious and bleeding out in the shower. She should have been the one to find Charlie dead in his room. Instead, she'd been here in fucking Florida, in her new house with her new life with an entire room just for her paintings and without a single picture of her daughter gracing the walls. I recalled arriving in Forks and seeing my grade school pictures hanging in Charlie's living room. For seven years, every day that he sat in that room he thought of me, of her, and every day he lived her betrayal all over again.

"I'm making dinner Bella, what does it look like I'm doing?" Renee's lips pulled into a smirk, her caramel hair pulled away from her face. Great, now she was fucking laughing at me. I wanted to punch her right in the fucking head but I knew that physical pain wouldn't be enough. No, I wanted her to be constantly haunted by the pain she had caused. Fuck, if I had to endure this hell, so should she.

"And you're using dad's recipe?" I asked, the resentment clear in my sharp tone.

"There's more than one way to make marinara, Bella. Not everything is about your father," Renee scoffed.

I laughed at her arrogance, her fucking clueless dumbass arrogance. She had no idea that I knew all the shit she had done, how many ways she had wronged my father, and here she was, smugly playing the martyr once again. I was done listening to her diversionary tactics and her delusional versions of reality.

"I mean, really, it's just another thing you stole from him, right?" I said sarcastically.

Her eyes pierced into mine, narrowed and vicious, and she understood. She removed the pan from the heat and she quickly turned the knob to extinguish the flame. Ordinarily, she'd ignore that I'd even said anything and carry on to avoid confrontation. But today, I wouldn't let her. I'd given up everything that mattered, everything that I had ever found joy in and the only person to ever show me any kind of acceptance, the only person to ever freely show me love, and now she was going to be held accountable.

"Right, mom? It wasn't enough you had to destroy his family?" I pushed as she clearly avoided the topic. Her body moved around the kitchen, taking the pasta from the cabinet and filling a large pot with water that she practically threw at the stove. "He went to the diner every day, did you know that? Probably why he had a fucking heart attack to begin with," I continued as my mother threw me a warning glance with poison in her glare, but I wouldn't stop now.

I purged, hatred and spite and loathing spewed from my lips, the bile I'd been choking back for so long finally released, and I laid it all at her feet. "You know all he did was love you. He wasn't holding you back, he was holding you up, and all you ever did was destroy him." The words flowed from my lips and I realized I was no longer talking about my father. Had I not done the same to Edward? Had I not spit in the face of the person who held my hand through an eating disorder, a death, a drug addiction, a miscarriage and a whopper of a diagnosis, and still, through all this, he wanted me forever?

I felt every sting of my own words and I reveled in the truth. "And you let me believe that it was my fault. You let me believe that I wasn't worth loving, that I wasn't worthy enough for either of you to give a damn, and you never did one fucking thing to prove otherwise." My mother stood before me, her arms crossed in front of her chest, the marinara now forgotten on the stovetop.

I had behaved no better than my mother. I had acted out of fear and self hatred, stripping Edward of any choice in the matter because of what I thought was best, because of what I wanted for him. But the truth was, no matter how much I detested the way I'd acted, no matter how much I hated myself for what I'd done, living without him was far, far worse.

That was why the pain in my belly no longer left me satisfied. I had starved myself because I felt I never deserved the care in the first place, care that I thought my father was withholding, craving only the acceptance from a man I thought didn't give a damn about me. But Charlie had loved me, Charlie wanted me, and Charlie accepted me when he was given the chance. What happened between my parents was never my fault, it was hers. My mother, too self involved to offer me the one thing I sought in my self hatred, the one thing I was never able to offer myself: compassion.

"I did what I thought was best for us," my mother said in a shaky voice.

"No you didn't. There never was an _us_. It was just you. It's always been just you," I said quietly. I wanted to cry, release the vehemence that burned in my eyes, but I wouldn't give her the satisfaction. I wouldn't let her see how she'd broken me.

But I would force her to see how Edward's love had healed me. How all the Cullens had shown me more compassion and acceptance than she ever had.

"You know that's not true, Bella. I mean, I admit I wasn't a perfect mother. But I raised you all on my own, do you have any idea how hard that is?" I startled at this question, her words a slap in the face. She didn't know about my failed pregnancy or my failed ovaries, but fuck, her words stung. She was right, though, I had no idea what it was like to be a parent and I never would. But I knew what it was like to be a part of a family.

"You didn't raise me. You didn't give me guidance. Everything I know is a byproduct of my own conclusions, shit I rationalized in my own head while you focused on your life, making up for your missed opportunities." I swallowed and forced myself to continue. "In Forks, there were people who loved me, people who accepted me as one of their own. In Forks, for the first time in my life, I had a family and I loved them." The tears welled in my eyes as I accepted the truth into my heart.

"Well, I'm sorry, Bella. I'm sorry I'm a terrible mother. I don't know what you want from me." My mother threw her hands in the air. She didn't get it. She never would. I could sit here all fucking day and she'd never get it, because the epiphany I was having right now as I expelled my guilt, my self-loathing and disgust, was an exceptionally difficult concept to grasp, and my mother had never really been exceptional.

But I had been exceptional once. No, I was exceptional still.

"You know, Mom, you don't have to be exceptional to be loved. You have to be exceptional to love others," I said, a smile playing upon my lips as I thought of my friend, my sister at heart, a wealth of knowledge crammed into seventeen short years, and I ached for her. I ached for them all.

My heart didn't just ache, it stuttered as I thought of Edward. I could almost feel his phantom hand in mine, the touch so familiar I even felt it in his absence. God, I had made such a monumental mess of things.

Renee blinked, her arms folded tightly across her chest again. Apparently, she had said something but I had tuned her out. It really didn't matter what she had to say at this point.

"Bella? Did you hear what I said?" I shook my head, my mind still spinning, trying to decide what to do next. I was breathing heavily. The dim glimpses of the many realizations I had just begun to decipher were flashing through my head. This all meant something, something big. I wasn't sure what just yet, but I knew things were changing.

"I said, I do love you. You're my daughter and of course I only want what's best for you." My mother tried to convey sincerity but I had heard this all before.

I looked at her with all the hatred I was feeling. "I know, Mom. I know you love me, but just not as much as you love yourself."

"Bella, you have no idea what you're talking about," my mother tried to respond and I laughed out loud. I probably sounded like a crazy person, but fuck, I hated it when she treated me like an idiot, like a fucking child who couldn't handle the truth. Even now, she couldn't own up to her mistakes, even now, as her destroyed daughter stood before her, practically begging for some kind of explanation, even now, she couldn't admit it. I wanted to tell her that I knew everything, how she had kept my father from me, and how as a result I'd coped by starving myself of nourishment because I thought he didn't love me, because I was never cared for or appreciated or nurtured.

"I know more than you think, mother. I know what you did, and how you destroyed him by leaving and now-" I stopped my rant in mid sentence. I was about to tell her how I'd done the same thing to Edward. I was going to explain it all, how I thought I wasn't good enough for him and how I couldn't give him the life he deserved. I was going to tell her how I'd never have children, how my heart had withered and my ovaries shriveled, how I would never know motherhood. I would never get the chance to nurture a child or know a mother's love, and here was my own mother who had taken this privilege for granted, abused and neglected her responsibility and had never shown any remorse, never even understood how detrimental her actions had been.

I wanted to destroy her as she had destroyed my father, how she had destroyed me, but I realized this would be a futile task. She didn't care enough to be destroyed by this. She never thought her actions were wrong and defended herself still, and would see my outburst as a tantrum from a little girl. It wasn't worth it. _She_ wasn't worth it. She didn't deserve to know the darkest anguish or the greatest triumphs of my soul, and she never would. She didn't know anything about me and she didn't deserve to

Renee stood before me, staring at me expectantly, waiting for me to continue, but I just scoffed, not willing to share another minute of my life with her.

"You know what? Forget it. You don't deserve to know me."

Before I knew what was happening, I had shoved my few belongings into my suitcase and was racing out the door. I had no plan, no idea where I was going, and I was completely alone.

I'd never felt so free in all my life. _"I am on a lonely road and I am traveling, traveling, traveling, traveling, looking for the key to set me free..."_

My emotional high faded as I realized I knew nothing of this city or of Florida. I needed to find a place to sleep, at least for the night or until I could figure out what I was going to do. My mind, my thoughts and emotions were all in turmoil, and I just needed to figure out what this all meant. I wanted to go straight to the airport and take the next plane back to Forks, but I didn't want to return there a messed-up half person. It had never been Edward's job to put me back together, and although he had made a benevolent attempt, in the end I would always end up in the same place. This was something I had to fix. I hadn't had the tools before, but I think I did now. Well, I was developing the tools, at least. Yes, going back to Forks now would be a bad idea.

I stopped at a liquor store a few blocks from my mother's house to buy a pack of cigarettes and call a cab. I figured I would stay in the area, maybe find a motel by the college or something. The taxi picked me up and dropped me off at a less than desirable motel just off the college grounds. It wasn't great, but it would do. Plus, there was a little grocery store within walking distance in case I needed anything. Right now, I just needed to think.

I threw my shit in the corner of the room thinking I wouldn't be here long, just until I figured out what I was going to do. The first thing I did, though, was pull out my laptop and plug it in, thankful for the free internet access. I wanted to talk to Edward so badly. I wanted to tell him everything, how I had confronted my mother, how living without him was the worst torment I'd ever felt in my life, how I had left him out of fear, and my God, how I wish I could have explained all this before but that I hadn't even known or figured it out until now. Everything was just beginning to click into place, but I was still confused as all hell. I just wanted to talk to him about this, hear his viewpoint on what had been going on in my mind because I knew he'd be able to make sense of it. He'd ask me all the right questions and everything would become clear.

Pulling the cellophane from my fresh pack of cigarettes, I pulled the papered tobacco from the carton. As soon as I drew in the smoke my mind swirled with the memories of Alice and schooldays smoking. I clicked on the most recent email from Alice, sent this morning at seven thirty. Alice's emails conveyed an array of emotion in just a few sentences. Some were fighting mad, with venom in every keystroke, some were worried, some were just downright heartbreaking, and then some even reminiscent. Every couple of weeks the cycle would start all over again, and I lived her emotions through those few words. Today, she was reminiscent.

_Dear Bella,_

_Do you remember that time we smoked at Mike Newton's party and we spent the whole night flicking pennies at his car? Do you know he still doesn't know it was us who chipped up his paint? _

_That was a great night._

_I miss you,_

_Alice_

How could I forget that night? I spent that night on the curved couch while Edward took care of me. That morning I puked up his crepes and it struck me now how fucking ungrateful the act had been. I had been so consumed with guilt, my mind so unable to accept the nourishment that my body rejected it physically. I had been fighting myself this whole time, trying to make my mind and my body and my heart all act as one, but the truth was they were all so damaged that no one part of me could operate as it should.

Inhaling a long pull from the cigarette, I started typing a response immediately. I poured my thoughts onto the page, cigarette ash dusting my keyboard and smoke swirling around my face. I'd pause to pull the cigarette from my lips and flick the ash into a coffee cup I'd found in the bathroom, but the thoughts just tumbled from my brain. I wanted to tell her in person, wishing I was back in that school day-smoking restroom, letting the words flow freely from my lips and letting Alice make her assessments. I longed for the roof under the stars, wrapped in my comforter with Edward as his icy fingers tickled my skin. I just needed to get these thoughts out of my head if they were going to make any sense.

My heart, I knew. Edward had mended my heart and forced an electric impulse through my body, shocking the muscle into strong, rhythmic beats. This I am sure of; I had loved Edward and I loved him still. I have an unspoken attachment to him and I knew that no matter where this stage of my life would lead me, I would always love him and my heart would always long for him. Even if I never go back to Forks, I would never know a love like Edward's. I might find someone I can spend my time with, maybe even someone I could love, but I knew Edward was my match. This I never had to question and I accepted it as truth, its clarity ringing so true I dared not disturb its constancy. I may never get the opportunity to love him again in this life, but I knew I would find him in the next.

I stopped typing long enough to ease the trembling in my chest at this thought, the idea of this life without Edward still a fresh wound. If it's the last thing I do, I would make sure Edward knew this, that our love was never a question. Tossing the spent cigarette into the cup, I quickly procured a fresh one, my fingers resuming their task.

My body is trickier. I knew it couldn't really be fixed, but it could be better. Logically, I knew what I had to do: a hundred pounds, fifteen hundred calories. But I also knew my limitations. Some damage was irreparable, like the scarring and shit, but I could live with my limitations. If I pushed myself I could get overwhelmed and I would find myself in the same cycle of pressure and purge that I had been living in for the last few years of my life. I couldn't start down that path again. I needed balance, to take care of the many ailments that my poor body had to deal with as well as provide it with the much needed nourishment it deserved. I think it was easier to think of my body as a separate entity unto itself. Looking at myself this way, without my emotional voids and fears of failure fucking shit up, I was able to see what the body needs from a physiological standpoint, and I had to admit it fascinated to me.

My mind was the hardest part. If I ever go back to Forks, I would have to be a whole person. When I started depriving myself of nourishment it was because the aromas reminded me of a man who I felt certain despised my very existence. It was something I could control and the hunger had left me focusing on physical pain and emptiness rather than the grief in my heart. If I were the one to hurt me no one else could.

When I boarded that plane to go care for my dismantled father I had no idea what I'd find, but subconsciously I knew what I was looking for: love, acceptance, compassion. I wanted to know why he didn't care enough to fight for me so many years ago. I wanted to know how he could just let me go simply on the pretense of what was best. I fully understood his reasoning now. It was the same reason I left, the same pool of hope from which I dipped my cup as I walked out of that house, the hope that Edward would be better off someday. I just wanted to give him everything he deserved, and I didn't think that included me.

But now, I no longer needed that acceptance from my father. My father loved me. He loved me enough to let me go. It wasn't because he didn't want to fight for me, it was because he didn't love himself enough to think he deserved my love in return. I wish I could have been able to tell him this, that I knew he loved me. It is a regret I might never release. My heart still ached to think of what I lost, what my mother stole from me. But I had to move forward, I had to recognize what I'd gained. Instead of a huge void in my life where my father should be, I now had at least this last year in Forks to fill it with. I had the truth, I had the reality of what my father was, and while his decision to cut me out of his life tormented me for so many years, I now understood why, and I absolved him of this flaw. I forgave him for his absence and his unwillingness to love himself and accept that he deserved me when I was ten, and then again for his unwillingness to care for himself when I returned.

I paused in my typing and I reread what I had typed and just like that, it all fucking clicked in my brain.

I had to forgive myself. I had made mistakes and I had hurt people beyond what I ever thought I was capable of. I had spent so much time dwelling on the many ways I had wronged those I loved and now I needed to accept responsibility for it and fix it. I wanted to repair some of the damage I had caused.

My cursor hovered over the send button and my finger twitched as I debated whether to send them my thoughts. In an instant, I clicked 'discard' instead.

I wasn't ready. Not yet. It didn't seem like enough to read what they'd known all this time, what I was just figuring out. They wouldn't be surprised by this information, they would just want to know what I was doing with it, and that, I still didn't know myself. What if they couldn't forgive me? What if he had moved on, realized how easy his life was without me and I would just bombard my way back in with all this personal shit? I would try, but not yet. I wanted to be able to give him everything, and I couldn't just yet.

I finished my cigarette, indulging in the sweet flavor and tossing the filter in the ceramic cup. I reread through the few emails from Alice I had saved. I mostly just saved the argumentative ones, the ones where I almost felt her glowering eyes burning into me. I had relished in the regret that I had felt, taking comfort in her harsh words because the pain was a distraction to the misery of living without Edward. But now, things were different. I didn't really need them anymore. Something else had begun to fill the hole that was my heart, one grain at a time, something else I could use as a distraction, something I hadn't touched in a very long time.

Hope.

...

"Shit!" I cursed into the small white kitchen, pulling my arm away from the hot pan and immediately running it under the cold tap. I inspected the wound, a thin red line seared into my skin where I had absentmindedly let my arm rest on the pot of vegetables steaming before me.

I had woken up in the motel room after my revelation just as confused as I had been the night before, and since I had discarded my email to Alice I couldn't go back and read any of my realizations. I could feel them vaguely, I knew a shift had occurred, but old habits are hard to break. I vowed that I would now make sense of my thoughts in a document I could save so that I might remind myself of any progress I'd made. I had no idea where to start but thought acknowledgement would be a good first step; that had to be worth something, right? And I knew I needed to find worth in myself before I could offer anything to anyone else.

So I started at the first place I could think of, the one place I had always felt value: school. I had always been smart and school was something I had found comfort in, using the information as a distraction from all my insecurities, but I was now a high school dropout, looking to attend school in the middle of the summer. I feared I would have to wait until September or October but I just couldn't wait that long. I had to start now.

The first step was to get a diploma. Again, thank you internet gods for Google. I knew it would take forever if I tried to go through the public school system, so I registered to take the General Education Development test at the community college. Fifty dollars for two days of general education testing, which I passed with flying colors. Fuck, I should have done that years ago. Now that I had this certificate in tow, I applied for the summer session at the community college. One class, two hours a day, four days a week for five weeks. I was starting small, trying not to take on more than I could handle, but trying nonetheless. I knew what class I wanted to take as soon as I saw the list of available courses.

Introduction to Human Nutrition.

I have always been interested in the sciences and this seemed beneficial to my situation. The more knowledge with which I could base my decisions, the better. I thought about Edward and how he wanted to incorporate good nutrition into his cooking, how he had explained a great deal of this information to me when we were preparing the healthy meals for Charlie.

College was a completely different experience from high school. Nobody gave a damn about you in college. I showed up, I listened, I took notes, and I completed my assignments. No bullshit, no drama. I loved it immediately. The class had completely captured my attention and it was in these thoughts I was lost, musing over the biological determinants of nutrient requirements in specific demographics, when I had lazily let my arm rest on the edge of the pot.

I had found a one bedroom apartment about half a mile from the community college. It had only taken me a little over a week to find a furnished place because when you had cash, I discovered, people were willing to get shit done quickly.

I also managed to get a job stocking shelves at the market a couple of blocks from my apartment. I volunteered to work the night shift as I really had nothing else to fill my time with, no family or friends, so I spent my evenings mindlessly replacing the goods depleted during the day. I was cordial to my coworkers but I pretty much kept to myself. I stayed in my own little world where the only thing keeping me sane was thoughts of Edward. What was he doing right now? Was he living with Rose and Emmett? Had he gone back to Carlisle's? What had he done for his birthday, for graduation? I wondered if they had gone camping this year or had a party or something. I thought of the camping trip last year, how I had tried to eat that hot dog and ended up puking by the stream. I thought about sleeping under the stars and waking up to such wonderful displays of affection. I spent all of my time at the store thinking, wondering, wishing, longing, no matter how much I tried to concentrate on something else, my thoughts always came back to him.

Patting my forearm dry, I stirred the vegetables with the spatula, the burn stinging from the radiating heat as a light sheen formed on my brow. Fuck it was hot in there. Summer in Jacksonville was miserable. My shirt stuck to my back, the humidity sweltering, and once again I was grateful for my decision to cut off all my heavy hair.

I just couldn't stand the weight of it any longer, and the humidity of Jacksonville made me look like a mad woman, the hair at my nape matted and tangled most of the time. I went to a local salon and asked the chick to hack it all off. She asked me three times if I was sure before pulling my frizzy mess into a tight braid at the base of my neck and cutting the long rope free. I cried as I held the thick bundle in my lap. I knew it was ridiculous to weep over cut hair, but the last time my hair had been pulled into a braid it was by Edward's hand and really, I cried because this was sort of representative of my old life, my old self, and here I was cutting it at the nape. However, it did lessen the intensity of the heat and now my hair hung lightly around my face, barely touching my shoulders in loose waves. It was far easier to manage and I liked the way I looked now, the style complimenting my face nicely. It had been difficult to get used to at first, but a good change nonetheless.

I removed the veggies from the heat and turned off the burner. Rinsing the slightly overcooked penne in the sink, I was glad I had chosen the wheat because it still held it's form even though I had left it in the water too long.

I had found some sort of sick satisfaction in trying to recreate Edward's meals. It was a way I could feel close to him, searching for those same smells, trying to emulate the distinct flavors, and I only now realized how accomplished Edward was as a cook.

I had started eating small meals, a granola bar or a piece of fruit, yogurt or cereal. I liked the breakfast foods, they were lighter and easier to digest. I would eat a small portion slowly, like I had before, until I felt that heaviness in my belly, and then I would stop, being careful not to fill myself to the point where I felt nauseous. I was taking my antacids and vitamins but it still didn't happen quickly, it took me a whole week just to be able to stomach a small breakfast. But once I had mastered that, I started trying to make Edward's creations.

My eggplant failed miserably. I used too much oil and spent the entire evening in the bathroom, my delicate digestive system not ready for the um...lubrication. Fuck, I was thankful as all hell I lived alone because I would have been mortified if I had to deal with that amongst company. I quickly learned that oil was not my friend and to use it sparingly in the future.

I had tried to make Edward's crepes using a recipe from the internet and ended up making thin, eggy pancakes instead. They didn't taste the same at all, the ricotta wasn't lemony enough and the crepe too heavy, and I threw away half the dish purely out of frustration.

I'd watched Edward prepare today's dish dozens of times and I thought I had remembered everything. I had sautéed the vegetables in a splash of olive oil and softened garlic, sprinkled them with a bit of salt and parmesan cheese before spooning the veggies over the pasta and portioning out a small amount into a shallow dish.

And now, as I took a small bite of the penne pasta before me, I sighed in disappointment. It held no flavor, no kick like Edward's primavera had. I took a few more bites before wrapping the rest up with plastic wrap, another flavorless meal to be enjoyed at another time.

After I cleaned up the kitchen I was going to do some research for one of the papers I had to write this week on the role of diet in the development of chronic diseases. I had been putting it off because I had lived with this topic myself and also through my father, but I had picked the topic for these very reasons. I wanted to learn as much about it as I could so that I might help not only myself, but others in the future, too. Edward had such a noble outlook on what he wanted to do with his gift, and maybe it was stupid to think after all this time he'd even want to see me again, but I felt myself thinking that maybe I could help him, that maybe I could do something noble with all this bullshit too.

It was during that time that I started writing emails to Edward. At first, I just wanted a recipe. I was trying to make a peach glaze for yogurt and I searched the internet for recipes but ended up bawling like a complete fool at the computer because I was so depressed that I couldn't just call Edward and get it from him. I could care less about the fucking recipe, just the fact that I couldn't call him for anything made my heart ache. I was feeling so awful and distraught that I started typing, and before I knew it I had typed up every insecurity I was feeling, every horrible thought I'd ever attached to myself, and in a moment of complete mental hysteria, I sent it. I wanted to take it back immediately, afraid of what he would say. I didn't even know if he would respond, so I waited, checking my email every fucking hour for the entire day, yet I received no response. I didn't know what this meant and I interpreted the silence a couple different ways.

At first, I assumed he had read them and just wasn't responding, similar to how I had been reacting to Alice's messages. But then my mind started to wonder. If Edward had emailed me, would I be able to ignore him? I don't know if I had enough strength to ignore Edward. It was difficult enough trying not to answer Alice. Maybe he had read them but just didn't care. Maybe the effort was too little, too late. Or maybe he wasn't getting them at all. I didn't know for sure, but I forced myself into believing he was listening, and so I told him everything, sending the secrets of my soul out into the great cyber unknown, finding comfort in the fact that the truth was out there and even if I never got the opportunity to tell him in person, at least he had this. At least there was some explanation for my behavior.

And so this became my routine. Whatever I felt, I wrote. I told him everything, laid my soul bare, stripped and raw and completely unedited. Every embarrassing or stupid thought I've ever had, every time I felt pathetic and lonely, when I'd wake up at three in the morning just longing to talk to him, or touch him, to feel him, to kiss and love him, I wrote him an email.

I told him about how I'd tried to go to the movie theater, just so I wouldn't have to be completely alone for a couple of hours. I thought maybe I could sit in the theater and just be in the company of other humans, but I couldn't even focus on the movie. All I could think about was mine and Edward's first date at the drive-in and how he had told me everything about his parents that night and how the next morning I had decided, come mental illness or not, I was going to love him for as long as I could.

I wrote messages to my ten year-old self, wishing I could tell her how she will be loved one day. I wished like hell I could wrap her in my arms and hold her, protect her from Renee and her confusing manipulations and give her hints so that the conclusions I knew she was creating in her head wouldn't be so harmful. I wrote about taking care of Renee when she had overindulged and how I had assumed the parental role in our relationship. I wrote about how I had loved the way my father smelled and how I had searched for those smells all my life, how the smells still haunt me like ghosts of his aura, and how I felt this strange comfort in surrounding myself with them. I wrote all about the pills and the puking and I wrote about Angela's party, the fucking domino that started this chain of events that led me to this place.

I wrote email after email about the Cullens. I wrote pages about Esme and Carlisle and their after work coffee, the way they stayed united as a couple and as friends, and I wrote about how they personified what parents should be. They weren't perfect, their children engaged in underage drinking and smoked pot right under their noses, they didn't know it all and they made mistakes, but the one thing that stood them apart was their ability to show love and acceptance. They trusted their children, instilled in them a sense of responsibility and made them a priority. They didn't enforce, they guided, offering a firm hand along this very confusing pathway of life.

I wrote about Emmett and Rose and Jasper and the many challenges that still faced them, and how they had dealt with the ones they had already surpassed. Rosalie and Jasper, too, stemmed from their own parental hell, one just as toxic as mine, and I found their abilities to set that shit aside remarkable. They had each found in themselves the desire to do so, to excel in the face of adversity instead of folding under the pressure.

There were pages and pages about Alice and her incredible heart, encircling us all in her tightly-woven protective warmth. The way she read her cards, always watching, observing and learning. Alice was unlike any person I'd ever encountered, her intuitive nature allowing her to see the very essence of what we all needed, and she would offer herself unselfishly, not because it's what she expected in return, but because she desired to give. The way she inspired Jasper, the way she inspired us all to be not just mere shadows of ourselves, but to live in vibrant color, and her empathy to the energy around us was a truly unique gift. I only hoped I had been as influential a friend to her as she has been to me. I knew I'd fallen short, but maybe, in time, I could show her what her influence meant to me.

I wrote him a message on his birthday and talked about how phenomenal I thought he was in the kitchen, how he moved with the ingredients, his ability second nature to him, and how he'd smell each ingredient before tossing it into the blend. It was natural to him, he was so organic and so pure in the care he put into his cooking, from his selection of ingredients to the delicate knife-work he had perfected, and it was nothing short of brilliance.

I scribbled down all these images as they flashed through my mind. I filled my emails with recollections of our firsts and our lasts, especially the last time we'd made love. I recounted every detail, the way he felt, the way he smelled, the way he placed his gentle hands on my body and I was able to surrender fully to him and trust him completely. I wrote about things he had said, trying to recount the many constellations he'd explained and all the ways people of the past had tried to make sense of the world. I wrote about our lost child, our lost opportunities, the future I had taken from us both, why I had decided to leave, how I managed to walk out that door, and every emotion I had lived with since. And I wrote about how it might be too late for us. I had been gone so many months, plenty of time for Edward to have moved on. Hopefully, he'd be leaving for New York in just a few weeks and a whole new array of opportunities would be presenting themselves to him. I might never get the chance to love him again and I wrote about how this thought burned in my soul like a piercing fire right through my veins.

I apologized to him, to all of them. I apologized for every way that I had hurt them, for every time I had disappointed them and they had to feel the sting of my behavior. I apologized to my father for not being able to help him sooner and for not being able to show him that he deserved love too. I apologized to the tiny life that couldn't have a sanctuary in my dilapidated womb and to the life that would never even get the chance. And I apologized to myself, for abusing my body, for depriving myself of nutrients and care, but most of all for believing that I didn't deserve to be loved. I wrote about all the ways I had wronged the people that I loved, including myself. And then I let it all go, sending it off to Edward in the hope that maybe he would understand, that maybe he could be comforted by my realizations too. I accepted the hurt and the pain and the turmoil I had created and I let it go, cut that attachment to the abuses of my past life, and I focused on the future.

The only way I could make sense of it was by comparing it to a quilt, pieces of scrapped material forced together with intricate stitching. Sometimes the materials are carefully chosen, beautiful pastel silks and satins, creamy laces and earthy, dark jacquards with rich red velvet trims, and some are simple cottons, or patterns frantically torn from other garments. These patches are nimbly sewn together with heavy threads, fingers worn raw from the constant tugging of fiber through the various fabrics. There may be blood, a pin prick of a needle, or tears as seams are ripped open and stitches reworked. Yet, when you're finished, you're left with a completely unique tale, the mistakes and the wonder, the pain and elation, it all makes this life mine.

It would still be warm, this quilt, it would still offer comfort, and I accepted the comfort this quilt would offer, with all its flaws and mistakes. In turn, I accepted myself for who I was and I found value in the person I was going to be. _"And I feel like I'm just being born, like a tiny light break in a storm..."_

_..._

Ninety-eight pounds.

I stood on the scale in the liquor store down the street from my apartment. I hadn't been on a scale since I had been in the hospital. It was hard to believe all that turmoil had been seven months ago. It seemed a lifetime away now, as the cooler weather of October settled into Jacksonville.

Of those seven months, I had been living here in Florida for almost five. I had celebrated my nineteenth birthday alone. I had been working another late shift, restocking the shelves with cans of beets, when I realized it was my birthday. And I was completely alone, and without a soul I wanted to share this with. I ended up sobbing in the bathroom of the store for the entirety of my thirty minute dinner break, longing for Edward, longing for a family, and just really needing a kindred spirit to talk to. But I had no one.

My family was in Forks and I was trying to figure out a way to get back to them, but I was scared. What if I could only be successful with this here, away from them, away from Edward? What if I went back and I fell back into my old routine? I didn't trust myself yet and I didn't even want to think about what I might find when I got back. I had tried to eat out at a restaurant once, kinda like a test to see if I could do it, but the whole time I thought of Edward. I ordered minestrone, pathetically sipping from my spoon and just missing him so much I could hardly breathe. What if I went back to Forks and he didn't want me anymore? What if he couldn't forgive me for leaving? Would I still be able to forgive myself? Like I said, I was fucking scared.

It just seemed like such a long time, five months, but then again, it wasn't long at all. But I knew more than anyone how shit could change so drastically in such a short span of time. Five months ago I was planning for New York, and now I was standing on a scale in a liquor store in fucking Florida.

It was still difficult to not chastise myself whenever I fucked up. The negative self talk was practically a part of my personality and to deny myself of that was extremely taxing. But if I were to truly accept myself, I would need to accept every part, including the flaws, and with this thought in mind, I continued on my path of positive affirmations.

So, today, in the liquor store where I bought my milk and my cigarettes, I celebrated in the small weight gain. When I had left the hospital I weighed ninety-four pounds. I had gained four pounds in seven months and my first reaction was that I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream, throw a temper tantrum right here in the fucking store. I felt like I had been doing so well, like there should be a more substantial gain. But I had to focus on the positive. It was a gain, and a gain is a plus, no matter how minute.

I paid for my items and walked the three blocks to my apartment. I was attempting marinara tonight. I was pretty sure I had this one down, I had watched my father make the sauce hundreds of times and Edward had made it for me for almost every meal I'd had at his house. He knew it was my favorite and made an effort to make sure there was something for me to eat which I enjoyed. I missed him so much and I let fall the silent tears that sometimes still found their way down my cheeks. Sometimes it was just a few nostalgic tears and other times it was hysterical sobs when I thought of what I had given up. When the situation seemed hopeless and my struggle with food became too much to bear, I would give up. I would skip dinner and instead cry myself to sleep, thinking it had all been for nothing, that I was here suffering without him for nothing.

In the morning I would awaken to a new day, and I would start the struggle again. I didn't expect it all to be fixed in one night, or even one week, but it had now been five months and I had only gained four pounds.

"But it's still a plus, Bella," I said to myself out loud as I walked into my apartment, setting the paper bag on the counter. I had been talking to myself a lot lately.

I pulled the ingredients from the fridge, allowing the tomatoes to reach room temperature while I checked my email. Nothing. I still hadn't gotten any type of response from Edward, so there was no indication that he had received my messages. Alice's emails were becoming less and less frequent and it killed me to not know why. My mind always raced to the worst possible scenario and I had taken her correspondence up until this point as an indication that everything was fine. The emails lately had been a bit indifferent, seeming to be forged out of habit instead of genuine interest, and I realized she must think I'm not getting them, just as I thought Edward wasn't getting mine, but I couldn't let them stop, I needed those emails, they were the last link I had to my life in Forks, proof that my life there had been real, so I sat at the table and constructed eight different messages, none of which I actually sent to her. I didn't know what to say or how to explain. No, this was going to be something I would have to do in person.

I set to work making the marinara by first placing a pot of water on the stove to boil. I let the tomatoes boil in a separate pan first to soften them, then ran them under cold water to shock them out of their skin. I sautéed the onions and garlic in a small amount of olive oil before smashing the tomatoes to a pulpy mess, taking care to eliminate the chunks because I really didn't care for chunky sauce. I let the tomatoes reduce at a high heat to get rid of the acidity and I added a pinch of sugar to sweeten up their bitterness, and salt and pepper and sweet basil, torn, not cut.

Tossing some spaghetti into the boiling water, I removed the marinara from the stove. It smelled delicious and I was actually anticipating the taste. Once the pasta was cooked, I strained the noodles at the sink, spooning the sauce over the top of the spaghetti and mixing to thoroughly coat the long thin strands. It just smelled so good and I couldn't help myself, I took a noodle right from the bowl, piling it into my mouth and slurping like a five year old.

It was perfect.

It tasted just like my youth, and I quickly served myself a small helping onto one of my ceramic dishes. I sprinkled the pasta with freshly grated parmesan and instantly, I was ten years-old again, engulfed in my father's marinara and just enjoying the meal.

I ate without thinking, the pasta heavy in my belly, and I stopped when I was full. It was routine now, when I felt the familiar pressure I stopped, and now I rarely had to even pay attention to it anymore.

I thought of my father, how he would let the sauce splatter all over the range and then forget to clean it up. I learned quickly to wipe that shit up right away because scrubbing dried sauce off the stovetop was annoying as all hell. I remembered how he would always find something wrong with his sauce, not enough salt or too much sugar or it should have cooked longer or hotter, but I could never tell the difference, it had always been remarkable to me.

Suddenly, Edward popped into my head, as he often does when I'm thinking of food, and I thought of how considerate he had always been, knowing how I loved marinara and making it specially for me. And I had never really appreciated it as I had appreciated my father's. I hadn't even given him the chance, my eating disorder already in full effect before I had even set foot in Forks. And I smiled because I would be able to give him the chance now.

In fact, I craved it.

My fork hit the plate with a clatter. Holy fuck! I was sitting here at my kitchen table and I was enjoying a meal. I was sitting here, eating marinara and thinking of my father and I was _happy_. And I wanted more, the craving for Edward's creations now strumming a fine tune of anticipation in my belly.

I stood up from the table, my course of action completely clear. I could do this. I could fucking do this. All my fears and all my hesitations fizzled and faded as I threw my most important things into my suitcase. It all made sense now, I could succeed where my father had failed. I could fight for the love that I now deserved. I had been here fighting for myself and now I would fight for Edward. He was the only thing I had held constant in my life, my constant in the fucking dark unknown world we stumble around in, and he might not forgive me, but I knew, even if I lived a thousand lifetimes, I would die trying. I would do whatever it took to earn his trust back. Whatever it took.

I used the house phone to call a cab but I couldn't wait. I rushed out the door, my marinara still on the stovetop and just hoping like hell I wasn't too late. _"I'm coming home..."_

...

A/N

Joni Songs…

_The River_

_Little Green_

_All I Want_

_Willy_

_California_

Two more, my lovelies…le sigh


	34. I Would Be His Lady All My Life

**Darlings**,

I appreciate you all. My cup runneth over.

Go VOTE for the Beatles One Shot Contest!!! DO IT!!!!

**n7of9 **is my beta...mine, mine, mine!

Disclaimer: It's NOT mine...le sigh

CH. 34 "I Would Be His Lady All My Life"

**BPOV **

I sat nervously on the porch bench, waiting for Alice to voice her judgment, wondering if I had pleaded my case to the very best of my ability. As much as I wanted to see Edward, I also wanted this chance to explain to my best friend the journey I had made over the last five months.

She had been very quiet throughout the retelling of my months in Jacksonville. She cried when I told her about the painting room and how I had resigned myself to wasting away there. She gasped when I told her about my argument with my mom, her jaw dropping and then pulling into a sly grin as she relished in Renee's fall from her self-assigned pedestal. She was silent when I told her about how I had read her emails, and I knew she was pissed I hadn't responded. And when I mentioned the emails to Edward, she listened astutely, but still she hadn't said a word.

"Please, say something? I understand if you're set to tell me to fuck off. I get it. But know this, I'm not going to give up. I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm kinda stubborn." Alice's lips pulled into a slow grin. She still wouldn't look at me, but I could see her definitely fighting a smile. It was all the encouragement I needed.

"Bella, it's been insane here. I'm completely wrecked. I just don't know if I could ever handle something like this again. If you ever pull a stunt like this again, I might hunt you down and tear you limb from limb," Alice said as her eyes finally met mine, and I nodded. This was going to take time and I knew that I could apologize and explain for an eternity, but unless I showed her my sincerity, my promises didn't mean shit.

"Thank you, Alice. For letting me explain." I swallowed, apprehensive, because what I was going to ask for next might push the boundaries of our delicate reconciliation. "Do you have a passport?" I asked her, and her jade eyes narrowed as she glared into mine.

"Bella, just leave him be. I know what you're thinking and it can wait. Let him have his peace there. He's doing really well, got an apartment-"

"So you know where he is?" I asked eagerly.

"Of course, but you're not going to Italy, that's insane!" Alice shook her head, the idea unfathomable to her.

"Alice, do I have a chance? If I go there, will he at least listen?" It didn't really matter, I was going anyway, whatever her answer might be.

"Bella..." She trailed off and I assumed the worst, that he hated me, that it was all over, that I had missed my opportunity, and I would accept it because this was the natural consequence of my actions. But it didn't mean I couldn't still try.

"It doesn't matter, I have to try. I'm going to Italy. I'd like you to go too but if you say no, it's not going to stop me," I said calmly as I stood to gather my things. I had every intention of leaving this very moment, no matter what her response.

"God damnit, Bella. Fuck!" Alice stood, running her hands through her hair as she paced on the porch. "Alright! Fuck, I'm in. I'm in, but I swear to God, Bella, if you hurt him again...."

"Yeah, I know, death by dismemberment," I muttered.

Alice told me that Rosalie had taken the baby to Esme and Carlisle's because Emmett and Jasper were upstairs painting my old room. It was to be the nursery for baby Charlie, and the information startled me at first. It was strange to see my old room empty and painted over. It looked so promising and fresh, a drastic change to the used-up space it had been when I had lived there.

Emmett was far easier to sway than Alice. He hugged me instantly and there were no jokes or sarcasm, just sincerity in his earnest tone. Jasper was more standoffish, giving me a slight wave before Alice told them of our plan. Well, my plan. I wasn't really sure what Alice's plan was yet, if she was coming with me for moral support or if she just wanted to make sure I didn't hurt her brother again. At any rate, Jasper tried to talk her out of it but she charmed him, like usual, explaining the situation to him in the other room while I sat on the floor as Emmett painted. I spoke with him about the course I had taken and he seemed genuinely interested, comparing it to his own requirements for Sports Medicine and surprisingly finding a couple of similarities.

Alice returned all ready to go, leaving behind a solemn-looking Jasper.

I drove my truck to the Cullen's slowly, surprised as shit it still ran after sitting in the driveway for five months. I was dreading the interaction with Rosalie. Fuck, I knew what she was going to say and it was not going to be welcoming. I actually contemplated sitting in the car while Alice ran in to get her things. Being a chicken shit would be far worse, though, so I swallowed my pride and walked into the big white house.

Alice went straight up the stairs, leaving me to fend for myself as I ventured into the kitchen and family room. At first glance the house seemed exactly the same, warm and open, and the memories of my time spent here fluttered through my mind. I stopped in the kitchen and imagined Edward at the stove with his black apron wrapped around his torso, and a lump formed in my throat as I fought back tears. I was so fucking scared at what I was about to do, the thought of travelling half way across the world to possibly be rejected made my stomach churn. I had yet to eat breakfast and now the grumble in my stomach was sour. But I could do this, I had to. Positives, remember? I could do this. And if he rejects me then I can at least try to be his friend. Yes, I'd rather have that than nothing at all.

I heard a babble from upstairs, a chiming youthful voice. Charlie. The sound propelled me up the steps as I found myself needing to see the baby. I followed his voice into Alice's old room and found Esme and Rosalie sitting on the floor with their backs to the door, engrossed in conversation. On the floor in front of them was a chubby little boy practicing his army crawl and straining to reach a brightly colored gadget. I watched them silently, an outsider looking in, for a full thirty seconds before Charlie looked up and squealed, his huge, toothless, dimpled grin directed at me. Rosalie turned, her soft face soft quickly transforming into shock and then stone. Yeah, this was going to be ugly.

Esme was on her feet in an instant, her eyes filled with tears, wrapping her arms around me as I sank into her body, just absorbing the human contact. I cried into her soft blouse, inhaling her clean smells and quietly grateful for her compassion. She pulled away, her damp eyes surveying my face. I didn't know what she was looking for, inspecting for signs of trauma or something, but whatever she found, she accepted.

"Welcome home," she said in a quiet voice while running her hand through my hair and finally resting her palm on my face. I felt my heart swell at her words. This really was the only home I'd ever known, with this family. It was the only place I had felt I belonged. It was comforting to know I still had a place here, with Esme at least.

Rosalie had turned her attention back to her son. She was ignoring me, the very worst of slights. I hated her indifference more than I hated her snide comments. I'd take a good lashing any day, but the silence, the silence belittles my very existence, like I'm not even worth enough to argue with. I was going to have to make the first move. I crossed the room and sat with her on the floor, giving my attention to Charlie first. I wanted to hold him, hug his little body close to me, but I was afraid Rosalie might rip my arms off if I tried, so I talked to him instead.

"Hi there, sweet boy," I cooed. Yeah, I fucking cooed. I didn't even know I could make that sound. In return he blew spit bubbles, the drool dripping from his chin onto the blanket he was playing on.

Rosalie wiped his mouth expertly with his bib, still refusing to make eye contact with me. I reached out to touch his chubby hand and his little fingers encircled mine, and I was amazed at how soft his skin was and the strength in his grip.

"Well, at least you didn't kill yourself," Rosalie muttered after a few minutes of babbling and screeching. I picked up the rattle and played with the striped and spotted toy, running my fingers over the various textures, bumps and ripples in the plastic. I didn't know how to respond to this. I had a lot to say, a ton of excuses and reasons, but I could tell she didn't really want to hear them.

"Are you better now?" she asked, her eyes finally meeting mine. I was right, she didn't want the excuses, she just wanted the outcome.

"I'm working on it," I said, knowing I would never fully be better, knowing I would always be working on it, but knowing that I was worth the struggle.

"Good," she said, pulling Charlie into her lap and kissing the top of his head.

"I'm going to make a pot of coffee, does anyone want a cup?" Esme asked.

"God yes," Rosalie said, lifting Charlie as she stood.

"We can't," Alice said, appearing in the doorway with a huge duffle bag thrown over her shoulder. "We're going to Italy."

"What?" Esme exclaimed, her face clouded with confusion as her eyes flitted from Alice's to mine. Rosalie remained silent. If she was shocked she surely refused to show it.

"I have to try," I said quietly.

"And you're going too? What about school?" Esme asked Alice. Why did everyone think this was a bad idea? First Alice, now Esme, and Rosalie's silence surely wasn't a showing of support. My resolve was beginning to waiver. I had to get out of here before I changed my mind.

"We'll be back in a couple of days," I said anxiously, standing up and heading out into the hall.

"And I can miss a few days of school. It's complete bullshit and I don't even need to be there this semester in the first place," Alice said as she readjusted her bag. She kissed Esme's cheek. "Tell Carlisle I said bye."

"Me too," I said, throwing my arms around Esme and giving her a tight hug, which she returned lazily. I think she was still pondering our leaving and trying to figure out a way to make us stay.

Alice hugged Rose and kissed Charlie on the cheek before heading down the stairs. I didn't know what to do, so I just gave a quick wave and a muttered goodbye before following after her, hearing a sigh and a cheerful squeal behind me.

Amazingly enough, we made it to the airport and purchased our tickets to Rome, with a connection in New York, of all places, and were settled into our seats all before noon. Again, cash works wonders.

Alice was now snoring beside me with her head leaning against my shoulder, and I yawned to make my ears pop. It felt like I'd been on planes for a week and I tried to remember what day it was. I left Jacksonville on a Saturday, the only flight out to Seattle was at ten thirty at night and had two connections so I had spent the night on the plane, landing in Forks early Sunday morning. I didn't want to show up unannounced at six in the morning so I found a drug store and bought a few things that I had neglected to grab on my way out of the apartment in Jacksonville. I tried to laugh over the fact that the first thing I did upon returning to Forks was buy a disposable razor to shave my legs, but I was too nervous. I dicked around in that store for two hours until I couldn't wait any longer and then I was on the porch with Alice, pouring out my soul and hoping like hell it would be enough.

It was now well after midnight and we had about three hours left until we landed. It would be three in the morning Forks time, but nearly lunchtime in Rome. All I could think of was Edward, anticipating every response he could give me, and I eventually just plugged in my headphones to shut out all my thoughts, the possibilities giving me a fucking migraine and making me sick to my stomach.

I tried to rest. I tried to let the gentle strum of the guitar and chime of Joni's melodic voice lull me to sleep, but every time I would get close I'd see him, happy, hovering over a range or whisking carefully chosen ingredients in a bowl, his face calm and serene, and I wondered what repercussions my showing up there would cause. _"Hope it's better when we meet again, baby…"_

Positives, Bella. Think positive. Okay, what's the worst that could happen? He could tell me to go fuck myself. And I'd be heartbroken.

But he'd never say that. He might politely tell me I've missed my chance, that he's moved on and he was focusing on his career now and didn't have time for a relationship.

I'd rather he just told me to fuck off.

But there was a chance, a minute chance that he might pull me into his arms and breathe into my neck. He might run his hands through my hair and down my spine, and he might kiss me, pressing his sweet lips delicately onto the tip of my nose. He might whisper adornments with displays of affection, his plush voice swaying in my head. And I might be able to prove to him that I love him. This is what kept me from hyperventilating. To be realigned with my elemental match was an opportunity I couldn't pass up.

I just couldn't seem to ease my nerves, though, and my hands still shook with trepidation and my legs bounced off the uncomfortable chair that also served as a flotation device. I was in the middle of making an argument for repealing the law that banned smoking upon aircraft when Alice stretched her arms over her head beside me.

She looked around, her green eyes glazed over as she wiped at the corners with her fingertips, careful not to disturb the perfectly smudged black liner along her lash line. She sat up and gave me a small smile.

"Hey," she croaked, and I grinned back. I have always envied people who could sleep anywhere. This plane was full of sleepers, soft rhythmic breathing and heavy snores, the cabin eerily dark and quiet.

"Hey," I whispered, removing my earbuds and stowing my mp3 player in my tote.

"Did they bring drinks again?" Alice asked, looking down the aisle to inspect.

"Not yet, but they should soon. We only have about two hours until we land," I choked out. Two hours. Shit! My legs began to tremble again and I pulled my knees into my chest in order to stop the shaking. I ended up just rocking in my seat.

"Alice, what happened, while I was in Florida?" I asked her quietly. She sighed and gave me a gentle reproachful glance, and I wasn't sure if she was unwilling to disclose for my sake or for hers. But I wanted to know. I wanted every detail. I needed to know what I was up against.

"Alice, please?" I pleaded.

"It's been a rough couple of months," she began.

So she told me everything. I cried, repeatedly. On more than one occasion I almost asked her to stop because I couldn't stand to hear it anymore, how he'd sat on the couch for three days, alone, and how he'd stolen her pot. When she told me Jasper found him with a slit in his wrist, I saw stars. I literally thought I was going to pass out. I was mortified as she told me these things, like watching a train wreck in slow motion, the smoking, the drinking, the accident. He'd been in prison, in fucking prison because of those fucking checks I sent. I had no idea it would cause that reaction in him. I had sent that stuff when I was in a very dark place, a hopeless vacuum of guilt and self disgust, but I hadn't expected for him to detect it. It seemed that even being a continent apart from one another, our connection still feathered our impulses.

"I mean, he wasn't even cooking anymore and then, all of a sudden, he was going to Italy. I tried to make him stay, even asking him to move to Seattle with me and Jasper, but he refused. He said he had to move forward," Alice said, her voice wavering in the recounting of the events that had transpired in my absence. God, it must have been excruciating for her to watch him fall apart like that, knowing there wasn't anything that could be done. It's such a helpless feeling, and I know I hadn't done anything to ease her distress.

"I'm so sorry, Alice," I said as I linked my arm through hers. She accepted the contact now, leaning her head on my shoulder and wiping at her face. I don't know why she decided to accept me now; maybe she accepted my revelations, maybe she just figured there wasn't any place to go now that I had her cornered on an airplane, but in either case, I hadn't previously apologized for what I had done. And while I didn't regret leaving because I was now a somewhat healthier human being because of it, I was sorry for the way I had done it, skipping town in the middle of the night, and I was sorry my friend had been in pain.

Eventually, the flight attendant took our drink orders and brought around a small continental breakfast. I ordered coffee because I had a feeling I was going to need the caffeine. I took my meds and ate my banana and croissant, but that was all I could stomach because of my nerves. I sipped my small sweetened coffee, the hot liquid warming me up slightly.

Alice silently watched me eat, and I was determined not to let it bother me. I had been doing this all on my own, alone, and I wasn't sure how eating with others was going to work out. It wasn't that I didn't want them to see me eat, it's just that my eating disorder had become my identity in Forks. All of them expected a certain type of behavior from me, and this just furthered my determination to not be controlled by this disorder any longer. It's ironic, the whole reason I had stopped eating to begin with was because I wanted control. I wanted to control the pain of an indifferent father and a self-absorbed mother, and in the end the disease ended up controlling me.

No. This disease would not control me any longer.

...

I startled as the plane began to dip, the change in altitude rousing me seconds before the pilot's voice crackled over the intercom announcing we were beginning our final descent. I quickly opened the shade and let the light stream through the pane.

I glanced out the window as Alice looked over my shoulder. We were still flying over water, the wide span of blue beneath us, but I felt my stomach begin to flutter in anticipation. My leg started to twitch and my hands shook as I opened and closed them to abate the trembling.

Alice grabbed my hand and gave it a tight squeeze. I turned to face her green, reassuring eyes, and I smiled, thankful she was here with me. I honestly didn't know how I would be fairing if I had come alone. I had been alone for the last five months and it was nice to have some company. We watched as the coast came into view, the water fading from deep blue to turquoise as we flew along the ports and piers doting the shoreline. Small multicolored square buildings fanned out for miles in a sea of gray and green and terracotta reds. My ears popped again and I leaned my head against the headrest and closed my eyes, Alice's hand still gripping mine.

"Do you want to go to the hotel first or straight to his apartment? I'm not sure if he'll be home, but we can wait it out. Or do you want to try to call first?" Alice asked, and once again I was grateful she was here to think logically when I could not. I hadn't thought past getting off the plane let alone considered transportation or lodging. All I could think of was getting to Edward.

"Straight to his apartment. We'll wait if he's not there," I said confidently, and Alice nodded.

Soon the wheels were skidding across the runway and we had grabbed our bags, thankful not to have checked any luggage. We walked quickly through the airport, unsure of where to go but following the herd of travelers we had arrived with. Alice grabbed my arm and pulled me into a store to buy a travel book and map and to exchange our currency. She asked the women at the cash register where we could catch a cab and thankfully, the cashier spoke English. She directed us to a train that would take us right into Rome and we followed the signs and purchased our tickets.

A thirty minute ride later, we stepped off the train and out onto the streets of Rome, the pavement packed with cars and buses and scooters, the area a bustle of activity. Alice looked at the map she had bought from the convenience store. She located the street where Edward's apartment was and also a hotel nearby. It was only about a two mile walk from where we were now but we decided to get a cab, not wanting to risk getting lost. I just wanted to see Edward and I didn't want to waste my time stumbling around the cobbled streets of Rome with my bags.

My hands were trembling as we rode to his apartment. Fuck, this was it, this was the moment of truth, my entire life to be determined in the next couple of hours. My heart was racing in my throat and I had to focus on taking deep breaths. I was going to pass out, I could feel it, my head starting to get fuzzy.

"Alice, I feel sick. I think I'm hyperventilating or something," I said quietly to her, and she rolled down her window, allowing the cool air to blow my hair back from my face.

"Bella, snap out of it. You're fine. You're going to be fine, okay? It's just Edward," she said. "He'll listen to you."

We pulled into a circular road, the cobbled streets thick with small cars and fucking scooters everywhere, the daring riders weaving in and out of traffic and filling every vacant space on the street. I clutched Alice's arm. We were in a large cul-de-sac in the middle of which stood a beautiful stone fountain. The roundabout was crowded with people and tourists, and bicyclists dodged the drivers as they made their way through the piazza. I was staring out the window trying to assess my surroundings when I saw a flash of bronze hair in front of a stone building. I thought I was imagining it, my eyes playing tricks on me, but then Alice gasped.

"Bella! I think…I think that's Edward! I think that's his apartment!" she exclaimed as she tapped the driver on the shoulder. "Stop! We'll get out here."

The driver mumbled something back in Italian and shook his head as I looked more closely in the direction of the initial glimpse, but the crowd was too thick. I was unable to see the building and I feared we had been mistaken, my heart doing back flips in my chest.

The crowd shifted suddenly and then I saw him. He was fumbling with the door, a brown leather jacket on his shoulders, his tall frame towering above the people around him, his tangle of browns and reds catching the sun, and like a fucking lighthouse his entire being beckoned me to safe harbor. It was so undeniably Edward, his strong jaw determined as he fiddled with the door, and at first I felt relief in knowing we had found him, but then the longing set in and my body craved to be near his, magnetism pulling me towards him, and it took all my restraint to remain in the car.

And then he was leaving, trotting through the piazza and almost barely visible now, and I felt the panic collect in my throat as I tried to yell out.

"Stop! Let me out!" I screamed out, and driver slammed on the brakes at my screech. I fumbled with the door handle, practically falling out of the cab as I grabbed my tote.

"I'll meet you at the hotel," Alice said frantically. "Go! Hurry!"

"Thanks Alice," I managed to mumble before slamming the taxi's door closed.

I saw her mouth 'good luck', and with that in mind I ran in the direction I had seen him take off. I fought my way through the crowd, the stones beneath my feet forcing me to pay attention to my footing as snippets of conversation swarmed around me, the fluid language unintelligible to my ears, and I realized I couldn't even ask for help, my knowledge of the Italian language ridiculously limited to Dean Martin lyrics and I seriously doubted "that's amore" was going to help me now. I searched for the brown leather jacket and the reddish hair above the crowd, and on a few occasions I caught a glimpse of copper and with renewed encouragement would immediately shift in that direction.

Eventually the crowd thinned and I found myself in a long, wide alleyway surrounded by canvas tented booths, each of them offering the most beautiful fresh produce I had ever seen. For a moment, I forgot my mission and reveled in the rainbow of colors decorating the tables: red bell peppers, green lettuce and herbs, white onions, deep purple eggplant, and orange and yellow squash. There were baskets of luscious strawberries and glistening blueberries and fresh peaches so fragrant I could smell them from where I stood. There were tables of fresh bread and pasta, bunches of brightly-colored flowers kept in large white buckets, flavored coffee and sugar and honey and freshly ground flour, and cured meat, salami and hard cheese. Large dried red peppers and netted bags of garlic hung in bunches from the beams of the multicolored tents, just booth after booth of the most natural and organic ingredients, and suddenly I knew I was in the right place. He was here, somewhere. I was sure of it.

I walked slowly past the booths, my senses on overload as I tried to take in all the aromas, all the while searching for Edward. He must be so happy here, this place exuding his whole philosophy on cooking, the very epitome of what he thought food should be, and I imagined him inspecting the fruit, looking for blemishes or smelling the tomatoes and basil. This is where he _should_ be, here, surrounded by the things that he appreciates so much.

I had no idea where I was, I had no idea how to get back to his apartment or the hotel. I was completely lost and I was starting to wonder if karma was trying to tell me something, telling me to get a fucking clue and give up. I stopped in front of a booth filled with fruit, bushels of apples and peaches, with the red and blue and pink berries smelling divine as beads of water shimmered on the plump fruit under the late afternoon sun.

Maybe this was what Alice meant when she had told me to leave him be, that he was in his element here, happy and successful. And here I was trying to jumble things up again. No wonder everyone thought I was insane in coming here, and now that I had no idea where I was and looking for my lost love in a foreign country, I was starting to fucking get it. Maybe I shouldn't have come here, maybe I should have let him have this peace and just waited until he came home to Forks. Then again, there wasn't any guarantee he would come home, I reminded myself, the conflict bubbling within me.

I stood at the booth, the strawberries reminiscent of our first meeting when I had tripped like an idiot and knocked him into a display, and I swear I could feel his presence, the memory becoming so real as customers made their purchases around me, the vendor preoccupied with the transactions taking place. I felt my hair tingle and a current over my skin caused goosebumps to spread out over my arms and legs before an easy nudge pushed me from behind.

"Permesso," I heard a smooth, familiar voice mumble behind me, warm and velvety, the word like liquid oozing from his lips.

Startled, I spun around to find Edward trying to make his way to the table, eyeing a bushel of berries that had caught his attention. He hadn't recognized me, wouldn't be expecting to see me here and my shorter hair uncharacteristic from behind, and I suddenly wished I had taken a moment to freshen up my face before racing off to declare my undying devotion for the man before me.

I stared at him. His green eyes looked worn yet content, his lips were pursed in contemplation, and his brow slightly darkened his features as he inspected the baskets of strawberries. He was wearing the brown leather jacket over a simple blue t-shirt and jeans, his arms hung with canvas bags. I didn't know what to say, what to do, so I just stood there staring at him as customers pushed around me. I couldn't understand them but I was pretty sure they were telling me to get the fuck out of the way, but I couldn't move.

The ruckus going on around me was enough to warrant a glance in my direction and when his green eyes finally met my brown, I panicked, my heart beating in my throat as realization made its way across his face.

"Bella?" he gasped.

I tried to find my voice and was unable to dislodge the huge lump in my throat now prohibiting normal breathing, but my heart sank at what he said next.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

…

A/N:

Just one more cliffie...for old times sake

Joni Songs...

_Willy_

_The Flight Tonight_

Happy Easter, my lovelies!


	35. Love is Touching Souls

**Darlings**,

It seems I've used up my quota of words for the year because all I can think of now are song lyrics..._What a long strange trip it's been...And now we've come, to the end of the road...When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that's amooooorrrreeeeeee!!!...Thank you for being a friend..._

Yeah, i just quoted the Golden Girls theme song.

**n7of9 **is beta supreme and I can't wait to go to her planet. In my life, I love you more, bb!

Disclaimer: It's not mine

**CH 35 _"Love is Touching Souls"_**

**EPOV**

I thought I saw her again. It happens almost daily, long mahogany hair isn't exactly an oddity here, but I had been seeing her everywhere: in restaurants dining with friends, in the bookstore perusing the aisles, and here in the market. My weekly grocery shopping excursion was frequently marred by the image of Bella. And that name! Fuck, that name was everywhere here and every time I heard it called out, I would turn to look. It was never really her, of course, it's insane to think she would even be here, that it was even a possibility, but I was drawn to the idea nonetheless.

Even now, as I stood behind the young woman, clearly an American, her short hair dark and wavy and soft around her slight shoulders, my heart quickened at the possibility. Logically, I knew it couldn't be her, but just like always, I took comfort in the minute possibility. She just seemed so familiar even in the way she stood, surrounded by strawberries, her very essence seemed so familiar. I felt like a fucking moron giving her the amount of attention I already had but I couldn't help but investigate the situation further. And I really did need to purchase some berries, at least that's how I rationalized my mental stalking of this poor, unknowing tourist.

I made my way through the crowd and stood directly behind the girl. She was just standing there and I took her non-activity to be awe. I understood this awe, my first days here in Rome flooding back to me as I stumbled around the city making a fool of myself and living up to every tourist stereotype. But I had lived here over a month now. My routine was settled, and I was just beginning to feel comfortable using the language and interacting with the locals.

I was standing behind her and leaning forward slightly when I caught the scent of sweet lavender blending with the fragrant fruit. She smelled exactly the same as Bella. This was torture but I wanted to subject myself to it over and over. It might be hell, but I'd take it. I hardly had a chance to compose myself when some random passerby accidentally nudged me forward, my body colliding with hers as she stumbled slightly.

"Permesso," I mumbled out of habit, hoping to blend in with the surrounding chatter. I shouldn't have been standing so close. Now she was going to turn around and I was going to look like some pervy freak. To hide my mortification, I refused to look at her, and instead moved around her to gaze intently at the baskets of strawberries, mentally kicking myself in the ass for even giving in to my pathetic indulgence. I mean, I fucking smelled her! What kind of person does that shit?

I could feel her eyes on me but I just ignored it and pretended I hadn't come over here because she reminded me of someone else, like I hadn't just fucking smelled her as I picked out a basket of berries. She still hadn't moved. She was just standing there staring at me while patrons forced their way around her and shouted various insults directed towards the perplexed woman. I couldn't ignore the commotion any longer. I tried to be as inconspicuous as possible and gave her the slightest glance out of the corner of my eye.

Chocolate. Warm soulful eyes, deep and intense, just like hers.

No, warm soulful eyes that _were_ hers.

I almost dropped the berries I held in my hand, my muscle control failing me in an instant as I struggled to maintain normal bodily functions.

"Bella?" I managed to say. I could see the flutter of emotions behind her eyes. What was she doing here? How many times had I envisioned this moment? I'd dreamed of how I'd hold her to me and tangle my hands in her hair. How many things had I imagined I'd tell her? And now, as her deep eyes peered into mine, the only thing I could think to say came spewing from my mouth before I had a chance to filter my response.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I asked in disbelief. Her face fell, apprehension clearly taking over her features.

"I need to talk to you," she stumbled over her words as shoppers behind her got more and more adamant with their insults. Before she could say anything else, I dropped my strawberries and grabbed her hand, the skin warm and familiar against mine, and a stir of current radiated up my arm as I pulled her out of the way.

I wanted to cry, I wanted to laugh, I wanted to fucking throw something and smash my fist through a goddamn wall. Fuck, my heart was racing and my whole body ached to hold her but I didn't want to assume too much. I knew I shouldn't. Or maybe I couldn't. I didn't know what to think, what to do, what to say, my entire mind, body and soul were in constant battle over the girl before me.

And I wanted to kiss her. More than I've ever wanted anything in my life.

I dropped her hand and her arms clutched around her tote as her eyes watched the ground. I took the opportunity to look at her. Her delicate face, as beautiful as always, was now framed by twisted layers of dark brown hair. Her cheeks were pink and full as she chewed her lovely lip nervously. Her observing eyes were worn and tired, the color so comforting I wished she would look at me again. God, I just wanted to feel her, inhale every bit of her scent with my nose pressed into the nape of her neck and my arms pulling her to me, but I forced myself to refrain. I still had no idea why she was here. She knew where to find me so she obviously spoke with my family and I wondered if they had told her about all the shit that had happened since she'd left. I assumed they would have and wondered if she was just here to appease her conscience. If that were the case, I didn't want to come off as some clingy pathetic asshole who couldn't get over a girl.

But that's exactly what you are, I thought to myself.

"You came all the way to Italy to talk?" I asked in disbelief. I couldn't believe she was here, actually here in Rome.

"Yeah, I guess I did," Bella said, her eyes still on the ground. "Is there some place we can go? I mean, obviously you're busy, but do you have some time later, or something?"

I almost chuckled. I had all the fucking time in the world. I had thought I could just get a job here, start at the bottom level as an assistant or a fucking dishwasher even, all the while observing, working, learning the ins and outs of the restaurant business. I went into dozens of cafes, restaurants and hotels, practically begging for a job, but I didn't have a visa and apparently, getting a job as a foreigner in Italy is extremely rare, like nonexistent rare. Most apartments for rent here are used as vacation homes and to declare permanent residency, you need a visa. Luckily, I was able to find a place that would rent to me by the month instead of weekly. I could stay in Italy for ninety days before I needed a visa, and the easiest way to get a visa would be to apply for one as a student. Which meant I had to enroll in some kind of school. I tried the culinary academy but the courses offered here in Italy were supposed to come after the ones in New York, so I was left with having to forge an entirely new plan.

I applied for a culinary internship for the winter semester which started in January and ran through March. It's unpaid, so basically I'd be doing grunt work for free, but they would place me in a restaurant in Rome or Florence, and sometimes the interns get hired when the internship is over. If I could make a good impression I could maybe get a job out of all this. So right now, I didn't really have shit to do. I was living off of my small inheritance and Bella's educate Edward fund, and cooking often, trying out different recipes, perfecting my techniques and just trying to acquaint myself with my new existence.

"I was just picking up a couple of things for dinner. You can join me, if you want," I offered. "We can talk at my apartment, it's not far from here."

"I know, I followed you," she said absentmindedly. My eyes shot up to hers as she stared at me, her eyes wide as a pink tint spread over her cheeks and the back of her neck, and my heart stuttered at the sight of her blush.

"You followed me?" I asked her, smirking a little in spite of myself. Fuck, it was so hard to appear nonchalant. I was dying to find out why she was here, why she would travel half the planet just to talk when we could have easily done that over the phone. My only guess was that she had something to say that could only be said in person, and this was either very good or very, very bad.

"Yeah…um…" She tugged at her ear and chewed her lip as she tried to explain. "Alice, she's here too, she saw you leaving your apartment from the taxi and I…I followed you."

"Alice is here? In Italy?" I asked incredulously. Fuck, could this day get any more bizarre?

"Yeah, she's at a hotel," Bella responded. My hands were shaking as I tried to control my emotions. I stopped to grab a bundle of basil in an attempt to mask my nervousness, bringing the fresh herb to my nose and inhaling deeply, letting the sweet fragrance invade my nostrils. Everything smelled so much more potent here. The tomatoes were sweeter, the bell peppers crisper, everything was just fresh and pure, the way food was supposed to be.

Bella smiled sadly beside me, her forehead creased as she watched me inhale the flawless leaf, and I let her eyes hold mine for a long time. I still couldn't believe she was here, that this was real, but I let myself drink her in, wading in the depth her liquid eyes offered before I broke our connection to pay the vendor.

"What hotel are you staying at?" I asked her as we continued to walk, trying to make normal conversation. The booths started to thin as we made our way to the end of the alleyway. I stopped at one of the flower booths on the outskirts and grabbed a bouquet of sunflowers surrounded by tiny blooms with petals like little purple stars, and paired with indigo stalks and dark orange seeds of some sort. I didn't have any real need for the flowers, they were just nice, the large and bowing sunflowers contrasted with the tall thin stalks. And I just felt like buying them. I needed them, for the apartment.

For the apartment. Yeah, keep telling yourself that, you pathetic lovesick fool.

"Um, we didn't have time to make reservations or anything so Alice is going to try to get a room at the Marriott," Bella murmured. So they had left Forks in a hurry. Yep, this was either going to be very good or very bad.

"The Marriott. That's close, like a block north from where I live," I observed, gently placing the flowers in my bag and paying the vendor.

"Yeah, I know. We kind of planned it that way," she said. I couldn't believe we were talking about such frivolous shit. I wanted to know everything right now, but I had to stop getting ahead of myself. Just focus on the present, Edward, fuck. Right now, what's happening right now?

Right now, the most beautiful girl I've ever seen was blushing vehemently in front of me, her eyes cast down and her lips pulled into a tiny smirk. And I wanted her. Right now.

I sighed and her smile faded, her fingers resuming their twisting, playing with her hair, pulling at her ear and all at once I realized: she was nervous.

Of course she was nervous, she came here to talk to me about something really important and the last time I heard bad news I acted like a goddamn fool. I kinda wanted to punch myself in the face over that, but it was the truth. I was notorious for overreacting. No wonder she was nervous.

We walked a while in silence and I stopped to pick up a few more things I used frequently in my cooking and was running low on, like garlic, almonds and oats. I had planned to make Chicken Piccata tonight but now that Bella had shown up I'd opt for a vegetarian dish.

I wondered if she was eating. She didn't look as skinny as she did when she had left Forks. Her face looked fuller but that could have been because of her new haircut. She was bundled in a large sweatshirt and jeans so I couldn't really tell by looking at her if her eating habits had changed. There were good indicators, though. First and foremost, she was still alive, so that had to count for something. I honestly had my doubts, torturing myself with thoughts of her passing out somewhere and nobody there to help her. But I shook those thoughts from my head. She was here. She was right here beside me and she looked…good. Her eyes seemed brighter, still wide but less consuming of her face and no longer rimmed with black circles. These had to be good signs, right? And she was _here_. This had to be the most positive sign of all.

She licked at her lips as if she were about to say something, and I watched her tongue trail across the pink fullness of her mouth. God, all I wanted to do was kiss her, it was all I could focus on, how she was over there and I was over here and we should be connected in some fashion, hands, lips, arms, it didn't fucking matter.

I tried to relax. My shoulders felt tight and my heart was tap dancing against my ribs. I knew I ought to be upset. I mean, I know why she did what she thought she had to do. I know why she sent the money. She always wanted care from her father and the last thing he left her with was cash so she could be cared for, and she sent that cash to us. It was her way of showing us she cared. Even when she was trying to give me my freedom, as she put it, she still wanted me to know she cared. I get that now.

What I didn't get is why she was in Italy. I was having a hard time making sense of the situation and I guess that's why she wanted to speak with me. To make sense of this immensely fucked up situation.

And all I wanted to do was hold her hand.

We walked in silence back to my apartment, the large stone building located on the outside of the piazza. I unlocked the main door and held it open as she walked into the small foyer. My apartment on the fourth floor really wasn't much. One bedroom that wasn't even a full bedroom, separated from the living area by a raised platform and a tiny bathroom with a pedestal sink, a toilet and shower. The living room housed a couch and a coffee table and television, and the disturbingly small kitchen had an old gas stove that was honestly the best range I'd ever cooked on. The best thing about this apartment, by far, was the terrace off the living room. The tiled balcony housed many potted plants and I had immediately bought a couple of long rectangular planters so I could plant my own herbs. In the center of the terrace was a square table and four chairs and I had made this my dining room.

Best fucking dining room ever.

I made my way to the staircase as Bella followed behind me, my groceries heavy on my arm.

"No elevator?" Bella asked, and I shook my head no. "What floor are you on?"

"Fourth," I said quietly as I led her to the stairs. I allowed her to go first and she began the march up to the fourth floor. I had to stop myself from watching her climb the stairs, remembering how her long braid used to swish across her backside when she walked. There wasn't a braid there any longer, just a small span of sweatshirt, but fuck how I wanted to touch her. The recollections were vibrant in my brain: my hands on her hips, gliding over her stomach and across that lovely behind. I knew every inch of the body before me, every freckle, every curve, every bend, and yet here I was strangling the urge to indulge. "I like your hair," I blurted out like a fool when we reached my door, and we just stared at one another.

I had to touch her, the need for the connection smothering my self control, so I gently slid past her and let my hand rest on the small of her back and my chest graze against her arm. The contact only lasted an instant but as soon as I touched her I felt her body sigh. I felt her spine sink into my hand and it took every ounce of strength I had to allow my hand to drop.

I needed more. Like a fucking junkie falling off the wagon, my mind started looking for reasons to touch her, looking for my next fix, and I shook my head and tried to abate the compulsion. I didn't want to cross any lines or assume too much.

I turned the key in the lock and opened the door for Bella. Once inside, she plopped her tote on the kitchen counter, the space instantly more complete with this addition, like her bag should be there every single day. She inspected the space as I hung up my jacket and put away my groceries, placing the bouquet of flowers in a clear glass pitcher. Lingering at the terrace door, she peered out the windowed doors and I smiled to myself. I knew she would love the terrace. Every morning as I sat out there sipping my espresso and smoking a cigarette, I thought of Bella and how she would love this terrace.

"May I?" she asked, motioning to the doors.

"Sure. Um, that left door sticks a little…" I trailed off as she yanked the door open, with impressive force, I might add, and walked out onto the balcony. She wrapped her arms around herself as she peered out over the edge, the square below a flurry of activity with honking cars and zipping scooters and peeling voices drifting upward.

"Wow, this is so amazing," Bella gasped as she looked out across the street at the piazza.

"It's pretty remarkable. You should see the view in the morning, at sunrise, the whole piazza looks like it's on fire," I responded from the door frame. Bella looked shyly over her shoulder, the pink blush creeping up her neck and it dawned on me that my comment sounded more like an invitation than an observation. I just wanted to tell her everything I could about this place, about living here, and the plan I'd concocted for staying here. But it wasn't my turn to talk. No, Bella was the one that had something to say.

"I bet it's something spectacular," Bella said, a sad smile on her lips as her eyes held mine, her dark twist of hair masking the intensity of her gaze. I wanted to go to her, push the hair from her face and let my hand linger on her cheek. She'd close her eyes and rest her face against my palm, and I'd kiss her, press my lips to hers and welcome in her heavenly flavor, relishing the sweet taste on my lips.

I turned my back to her instead and walked into the kitchen and pulled the coffee maker from the cabinet. I had taken to drinking coffee here, the aromas too potent to ignore, and now I was a slave to the caffeine. Coffee in Italy means espresso and is made with a special kettle using espresso grounds purchased at the market. It was strong as all hell but I could hardly function now without it.

Bella followed me into the kitchen and leaned on the counter. "You drink coffee now?" she asked, and I nodded, unsure as how to explain. Not that it really needed explaining, but the comment intensified the reality that there was a huge distance between us, one that wasn't entirely physical.

Bella nodded back and I spooned the grounds into the filter and filled the bottom of the kettle with water. I placed the filter into the kettle and screwed the pot onto the top. Putting the kettle on the stove, I lit the burner and let the espresso fill the carafe. I poured the coffee into two ceramic cups, adding only a bit of cream from the fridge.

"I love that smell," Bella noted, a bit absentmindedly.

"Here, I made it for you," I offered her one of the cups but she shook her head no, her fingers tracing the patterns on the tile countertop. "Can I get you something else? Water or something?"

"Yeah, water would be good," she muttered. "Actually, I should probably eat something. I couldn't really eat on the plane."

I have to admit, it was hard for me to hide my surprise as these words tumbled out of her mouth. I paused mid sip for at least a full minute, a full minute of awkward, horrendous silence in which my complete shock was fully disclosed. And I felt like a complete asshole for it too. I mean, here she was obviously making some strides and all I could do was make her feel self conscious about it.

"Do you want to go out for something to eat?" I offered. I just couldn't get over this, was Bella Swan asking me for food? Did she actually want to eat? "I was going to make a Chicken Piccata for dinner, but we can go out if you want. You know, to talk." I quickly added that last part as an attempt to salvage my pride, but really, who was I kidding? This girl could ask me to go hunt down a mountain lion and barbeque it up for her and I'd gladly oblige.

"Can we make marinara? I've been craving your marinara," Bella said, suppressing a smile. She was being cheeky, damnit, and it was fucking cute. A fluttering of hope tingled in my chest and I had to snuff it away, cage it off, because we were still walking around on those goddamn fucking awkward as all hell eggshells. And taking into account Bella had just said she's been craving my marinara, I quite literally was at a loss of what to expect next out of her mouth.

"Um, okay. Marinara it is," I responded, finishing my coffee as Bella moved to the fridge and began to lay the ingredients upon the counter. I watched her for a moment, a little taken aback as she took it upon herself to search the cabinets for a pan. She stood at the sink filling the pan up with water when her eyes finally met mine and I realized I'd been staring. I couldn't help it. I was just amazed, charmed really, at her eagerness.

"I know," she said, reading my thoughts, it seemed, and I felt my heart swell and break simultaneously, a great tidal force in my chest. She was different and I hadn't been there to witness her change at all. It had nothing to do with me, in fact one could argue that it was in spite of me. In spite of all the ways I had tried to help her, it appeared, she was only able to do it by herself. I had to admit, this made me feel slightly less than worthless.

This worthlessness, of course, was immediately overshadowed by the extreme pride I felt in knowing Bella had finally realized the strength she possessed. I mean, I didn't want to jump to conclusions as my confidence in what I thought I knew was completely obliterated. But I was starting to think this is what Bella was trying to show me.

She had placed two pots on the stove to boil, one for the tomatoes which she had placed in it, and one for the pasta. She tried to set the burners ablaze but the left one had trouble starting, the click, click, click of the igniter failing to light. I reached around her, not quite close enough to touch but my body warming in her radiance nonetheless, and without really knowing what I was doing, I inhaled her lavender scent. She quickly turned her head and suddenly her face was inches from mine. Her lips mere centimeters from mine, that damn twist of hair interrupting her ardent eyes burning into mine and my fingers twitched as I repressed the urge to push the hair from her face. I noticed her lashes flutter, heard her inhale, an almost noiseless gasp from her pout. I wanted to kiss her. I wanted it so fucking bad, but I just didn't know what the fuck to do. So I dropped her gaze and occupied my fingers by picking up a book of matches from the countertop instead. She slunk out of the way, her hands running through her hair before she unzipped her sweatshirt. Fuck, now she was shedding clothing. I turned back to my task and struck a match against the box, bringing the flame to the gas, and the burner immediately blazed blue before I tossed the match into the sink.

I looked up to find Bella folding her sweatshirt on my couch and my eyes hungrily scanned every inch of her more exposed frame. She was wearing a white long sleeved shirt, the material thin and transparent and revealing one of her black tank tops underneath. She was still thin, but the image I had burned in my brain of her before she left had been distorted, her features intensified in my memory, and I couldn't remember exactly what she looked like before she left. Not that it mattered, as long as her body was healing, as long as she was healthy and happy, I didn't care what she looked like. She always just looked like Bella to me.

But she was different now. Her posture, her demeanor, her entire aura glowed with a whole new vibrancy. I almost didn't recognize it, and it bothered me. I hadn't been there for the shift and I found myself wondering if I still knew her, if that made any sense at all.

"You look different," I said quietly, unable to hold it in any longer. I had to know what was going on in her mind, why she had flown thousands of miles to talk to me.

"It's the hair," she said as she walked over to check the tomatoes which were boiling fervently down. They were probably done so I moved to turn off the burner but found Bella had beaten me to it. She pulled the pan off the stove and set it in the sink, running the cold water over the tomatoes. Huh? I didn't really know what to think of this. That was my job, and here she was basically taking over my kitchen. But the most shocking part of it all was that even after all this time, cooking with Bella felt natural. I mean, shit, this whole thing was pretty much freaking me the fuck out, but it was natural. What was unnatural was the way we kept dancing around the issues, making awkward small talk and ignoring the huge monkey in the room. Or is it an elephant? I don't know, whatever the fucking pretend everything's fine jungle animal is, that's the one we were ignoring.

Bella stood at the sink and I could feel her there, her very presence pulsing next to me as we worked together in the small space. Her hands were nimble and swift as she removed the skin from the tomatoes, a small knife in her hand removing any of the blemishes that happened to remain. It was starting to get dark in the apartment, the natural light streaming in from the terrace having retired for the evening. I moved to flick on the light switch, flooding the room with white fluorescence. I ran a heavy blade through a small onion, the overwhelming fragrance burning my eyes, and I tossed it into a frying pan with a splash of oil. I set the pan where the tomatoes had been, reigniting the flame and letting it sauté. I reduced the heat and added some minced garlic before helping Bella pull the skin off the rest of the tomatoes.

"Your hair looks really pretty," I said, my voice almost a whisper before taking the soft fruit in my hand and gently peeling away the skin. "But that's not it."

"You didn't get them…" she trailed off. I heard her mutter something under her breath but my cell phone was ringing from the pocket of my jacket. I reached for a dish towel, my hands a mess of tomato juice and pulp and seeds, before hurrying to pull the phone from my coat.

"Alice," I said looking at the display. She probably wanted to know if I found Bella, or rather if Bella found me and if we were okay.

"Hi, yes, she's here," I said, answering the phone.

"Oh. Okay. Um…tell her we have a room at the Marriott," Alice said.

"Sure," I responded, the thought of letting Bella out of my sight again literally sickening. But I really didn't have any say, this wasn't my choice. I looked over at her, still peeling tomatoes at the sink, her brow creased, her eyes far away as she pulled the skin from the flesh absentmindedly. What was going on in that head of hers?

"And I love you, both of you," she said knowingly. She was trying to let me know she had forgiven Bella, like that was supposed to make this easier or something. It has never been a question of forgiveness. I understood all her reasons for leaving. I was just sad she hadn't included me in the decision.

"Love you too." I hung up the phone and set it on the countertop.

"She just wanted to know if you were here and to tell you she's at the Marriott," I said quietly to Bella who was now squishing the tomatoes through her fingers into the frying pan holding the sautéed onions and softened garlic.

I followed her lead, tearing half a dozen basil leaves into the pulpy tomatoes now sizzling in the pan, the aromas wafting around us as Bella searched the drawers for a wooden spoon. I quickly found the coveted spoon and handed it to her, a smile spreading across her lips as she mixed the ingredients in the pan. She poured a bit of salt into her hand and added it to the sauce before grinding some pepper over the top as well. She looked around searching for something before I realized what she thought was missing.

"You don't need to add sugar with these tomatoes. They're fresh and naturally very sweet," I advised and her eyes looked at me, inquisitively.

"Really?" she asked, abandoning her search. She dipped the wooden spoon into the tomatoes, and brought it to her lips. I stared enviously as her tongue gently licking at her lips as she pondered this idea. She didn't even hesitate, the action natural and normal. This shouldn't have been so strange to see, but for Bella, eating always seemed to be a struggle, the effort constant in her demeanor.

"Oh my God, those are the best tomatoes I've ever tasted in my life. They're like huge mutant grapes or something," Bella said incredulously.

"Well, tomatoes are technically a fruit, you know," I said to her. "And they're chocked full of antioxidants."

"Yeah, I know. I, um…I took a nutrition class while I was in Florida," she said quietly as she stirred the sauce again.

"You took a class?" I asked, my heart stuttering at the mention of that place. I had this detest for Florida now, like it was the state's fault Bella had chosen to leave me and hide out there.

But it's not like she was really hiding, was it? I knew where she was. She hadn't tried to mask the fact that she was there and I could have gone to her. What was my excuse? Why hadn't I tried harder, why hadn't I chased her? I could have fought for her but I didn't. I guess I had been preoccupied with the trial, serving time for my mistakes and having epiphanies and shit. But I could have followed her.

After all, she had followed me, all the way to Italy.

"Yeah, at the community college in Jacksonville," she replied as she looked up at me and set the spoon on the counter.

"With your mom?" I asked. I was pretty sure that was where her mom worked.

"No. I haven't spoken to her in months. I kinda disowned her," Bella said, her hands twisting together as she spoke.

"You disowned her? Then why were you in Florida for five months?" I asked confused. Why would she stay there if she wasn't even speaking to her mother?

"You didn't read them at all? Any of them?" she asked desperately. I probably shouldn't admit I carried around with me the letter and the short note she sent with the check. Fuck, I had read them so many times, I could recite them by memory.

"Of course I read them. How do you think I knew you were in Jacksonville? Fuck, Bella that was all I had, that fucking letter, the note you sent with the money. And I get it, okay? I understand why you left, what you were trying to do. But it was just such a breach of confidence, you know? Like you thought I couldn't handle this shit, like you didn't trust me to do what was good for myself, what was good for us." It just came pouring from my lips, all the thoughts I'd been harboring inside, the outlet I had needed so badly back in Forks. I needed her. I needed to talk to her, just fucking talk to her about this so I could work it out in my head, and she didn't even give me the chance.

Great tears rolled down her cheeks now, but she didn't wipe them away. She hardly flinched, she just stood there with agony in her eyes as the sauce began to burn on the stove, big hot bubbles splattering onto the range. I quickly turned down the heat, frantically stirring the marinara and trying to salvage the dried tomato by adding a bit of water to dislodge anything stuck to the bottom of the pan. I gave the sauce a quick stir and a big hot bubble splashed on my left arm, the hot liquid searing into my skin.

"Fuck!" I shouted and quickly grabbed a towel to wipe the scalding hot sauce from my arm. Bella's hands gently cradled my arm, her touch so familiar, so comforting, yet so unexpected that I almost didn't feel the sting of my now blistered skin.

"Here, let me see," she said softly, leading me to the sink and running my arm under the cold water. The sting was palpable, the pain searing as the water washed over the blister, and then slight relief as Bella tenderly held my arm. I fucking knew how to take care of a blister and yet, here I was, letting her tend to my ailment, desperate just to feel her touching me, to have her close, displaying acts of care and compassion toward me. I didn't want her to stop. I didn't want her to let me go. I just wanted to live in this moment, scalding blister and all, because I was the most fulfilled I'd been in the last five months.

Bella turned off the tap and carefully used the dish towel to pat the wound dry. Her fingers grazed my skin as she ran them over the scar along my wrist and hand, and as her tears dotted my arm and I felt a clench in my chest as well. She brought my wrist to her lips and kissed the marred skin, a long careful press, before letting my hand drop and moving to dump the dry pasta into the now boiling pot of water on the stove. I resumed my task as well, giving the sauce a slight stir and pulling some produce from the fridge for a salad.

Bella stirred the boiling water with her back facing mine as we finished preparing the meal in silence. I didn't know what to do, especially now, especially after she had kissed my wrist and let her tears fall onto my skin. All I knew was that I wanted to know everything now. Every tiny detail about her time in Florida, I wanted it all.

When we sat down on the terrace to eat, I was fully prepared to question the living shit out of her, but I soon found out I didn't need to. I lit the lanterns surrounding the table, casting a soft glow in the outside space, a deep contrast to the harshness of the fluorescent lighting.

I took a small bite of my pasta. I wasn't even really hungry, my stomach quite unable to process food in this moment. No, it seemed my entire body was focused on what Bella was going to say, anticipating if she was actually going to eat. The sauce was slightly bitter, a tangy aftertaste of burnt tomato, and I frowned. It wasn't bad, I mean, it was still edible, but it wasn't the marinara I knew Bella had been craving.

Bella pushed the pasta around her plate, taking small bites as I watched her. I couldn't help myself. It was a habit, not only because I liked to gauge reactions to my dishes, but because I knew what a struggle it was for her to provide her body with nourishment. She really must have been hungry though, because she ate quickly, leaving a small amount of pasta on her plate before taking a few bites of her salad.

"I went to Florida to die, Edward," she said quietly as she set her fork down. "I knew if I tried to explain, if I tried to tell you I was going to Florida so it wouldn't hurt you as much when my body expired, you wouldn't let me go. I could see what I was doing to you, and the person I was when I left Forks, that person didn't see any other choice. I couldn't keep hurting you. I couldn't stand myself. Oh God, I'm so sorry for how I've hurt you." Bella wiped at the tears streaking her cheeks.

I had never guessed that she really thought she was going to die, not until I got the money, and at first I was furious with her choice to leave, to choose to go away and die and deny me even the opportunity to love her through that. Then, my anger fizzled as I thought of the misery she must have been living in, the sense of utter hopelessness it must have taken her to walk out that door, and I wanted to move across the distance between us, the square table seeming far too wide.

But she kept talking and I listened, starved for information and grateful she was choosing to share it with me now.

"I went to Renee's because I wanted her to see what she had done. I wanted to hurt her, destroy her like she had destroyed everyone else, but I was completely useless. I once used the hunger as a distraction for the pain I had in my soul, but it just didn't work anymore. I got nothing out of starving myself except hunger pains and irritation. One day as she was cooking I just snapped. I was going to tell her I knew everything, I was going to tell her about the pills and the miscarriage and just how destroyed my body is, when I realized she wasn't worth it. But that I was. So I walked out on her forever.

"I was staying at this hotel, just me and my brain and a pack of cigarettes, and I tried to make sense of what was happening, of how things were so different from when I had started this cycle of self hatred and how I didn't know how to deal with it. I didn't know how to handle all the good that was happening in my life. Does that make sense?" Bella asked me, but I was a little confused by what she meant. I mean, I get the whole pattern of behavior cycle, I had just stepped off that carousal myself. She must have seen the confusion on my face because she continued to try to explain.

"It's like…it's like Pluto," she said, trying to find a way to relate it to me, I guess, and I smirked that she chose to use this analogy. "I mean, we grew up thinking Pluto was a planet, right? And physically, it's not like the other planets but we think it is, because that's what we've always been told. And then you accidentally bump into the most remarkable human being, and he tells you it's not. He presents evidence, shows you pictures and graphs and shit and you try to understand, but it's just too unfathomable. I mean, now the whole mnemonic device thing you were taught in fifth grade doesn't even work anymore, it totally throws off your whole foam replicated solar system, and scientifically, yeah, Pluto isn't a planet, but you never really let go of the idea because it's just easier to believe as you always have." I understood this. Belief is a tricky bastard. Once you believe something, truly believe it, it's damn near impossible to accept anything else.

"I don't know," she continued, "maybe it's not the same at all. But I just, I've just never felt worth it. And then, all of a sudden I was, and it was just hard to believe, hard to accept that someone would accept me with all my flaws. But you did. What I didn't realize, until after I had already left, is that I had to accept me too.

"I wrote you emails, lots of them. When I figured this out, I wanted to share it with you. I just wanted to talk to you about all the things that were buzzing through my mind. When you didn't respond I thought you had moved on or that you despised me for leaving, and I vowed to tell you the truth." She wrote me? I hadn't checked my email in, fuck, over a year. I don't even know if I still knew the password. I was shocked at hearing this, that I could have been there, if not physically sharing the experience with her, at least hearing about it, at least I could have been able to offer her some kind of kinship from across the country. I was about to tell her this but she continued to talk.

"But I didn't want to come back until I was a whole person, you know? I needed to know I'd be able to do this whole eating thing permanently, that it wasn't just a temporary fix. So I started cooking your recipes, trying to recreate the dishes I'd watched you prepare. I made marinara because it reminds me of my father and I was missing him. I made it perfectly, Edward. And I was eating and I was content. I knew in that moment that I _could_ do this. I can be healthy. I can be strong. I can deal with any fucked up shit karma throws at me, but I don't want this life without you." Bella's hands were pressed into the table as her words resonated in my chest.

"I don't know what's going to happen in the future, Edward, but I do know that it is a true testament to the character of a person in how they choose to handle what has been dealt to them. I was dealt a shitty hand and I've made poor choices, but those choices have led me here, back to you. It always comes back to you," Bella paused, her fingers pressed together, her previously downcast eyes suddenly boring into mine, every inch of her face and posture saturated with resolve.

"I just came here to tell you that I love you. I had to make sure you knew this. I mean, you're my match," she said with a slight smile, her eyes glistening. "My love for you was never a question, ever. I want…I want to be the binary stars, you know the healthy ones that are held together by gravity, spinning together through the darkness while the universe tries to rip them apart. I'm not afraid of the universe anymore, but I just don't want to face it without you. Loving you makes my life better, makes me better. And I don't care how many lifetimes it takes, I won't be content until you understand how much you mean to me. It might take forever. So I guess that's all I'm asking for. Forever." Bella's lips pulled into a slight grin, realizing the contradiction in her statement.

"Forever, huh? That's an awfully tall order," I responded, unable to resist the joke. My heart thumped wildly against my ribs and I cursed this fucking table between us. Oh God, I just wanted to pull her against my body and give myself to her forever. It's not like she didn't already have me.

"I know. But I'll prove it to you, whatever it takes, Edward. I'll wait until you're ready. I understand you're here now and you're going to focus on your career and I realize this is seriously fucked up timing. But I'll wait, if you'll let me, if you want me to. I'll wait even if you don't want me to." Bella's liquid eyes seemed to swirl in the low light as she gazed at me earnestly, and I waited for her to continue but she just sat in silence, staring into me, pulling me in as I leaned further into the table, our connection humming into the dark starry night muted by the bustle of activity from the street below.

"I'd like to read the emails. Fuck, I haven't checked my email in months. I don't even have internet access here. I have to go to one of those internet cafes if I want to look stuff up. But I'd really like to be a part of your healing, even if it's already over. That was the thing that hurt the most, that it seemed that you had cut me out of your life. I just want to be a part of you, a part of your healing, a part of your pain even, and a part of your successes and failures. I just want to _be_ there," I said as her face trembled, the tears again spilling onto her cheeks.

"I'm not healed, not all the way. I don't know if I will ever be healed, Edward. My body is still a mess. But my head's in the right place, I think. And my heart is close, so very close to being home." She folded her arms around herself and I understood what she meant. Home. A place that hadn't always been available to me, a place I had found with Bella. When she left, I drifted like a boat cut loose from the buoy, but I always knew where I belonged. And it was anywhere she chose to lay her head.

"I'd like that. To feel home again. I'd really like that," I managed to mumble as Bella nodded and wiped the tears from her cheeks.

We talked for hours on the terrace. I told her about all the shit I did while she was in Florida, how I cried when I heard that Joni Mitchell song, how I had to get a fake tooth, and how Rosalie had let me babysit Charlie. I mentioned all the interesting things I'd been learning in Italy. I told her how I couldn't get a job and had to apply for school, and she was really excited for me about the prospect of employment through the internship. She had so much confidence in my cooking, it was hard not to be optimistic with her. She told me about the emails and her job at the market stocking shelves, and I almost shit at the thought of her walking home from the late shift in the dark to an empty apartment. We talked about her class and how she loved college and was looking forward to taking more classes.

And then it hit me.

Bella was going to go back to Forks. Or Jacksonville. She had an apartment there and a job. She was going to leave me again. Shit, she was going to leave me tonight. Fuck, I just wanted her to stay the night, but I didn't know how that was going to work. I mean, things were different now and we loved each other, that was undeniable, but I wouldn't be the one to rush her into anything she wasn't ready for. I was just getting to love this new Bella. I didn't know how this would change our physical relationship. The attraction was still there, that fucking magnetic hum between us still radiating even in our distance, but I would resist if that meant a stronger, healthier relationship for us.

It was with this thought that I offered to walk Bella to the hotel. It was late, just before midnight, but the streets of Rome were still bustling with activity. I helped her back into her sweatshirt and she zipped it up as we walked through the softly lit piazza and past the large clock tower that rarely chimed. Couples and groups of friends congregated around the fountain, laughing and speaking in expressive Italian, the language now sounding natural to my ears. It was a little cool out and I was glad I had grabbed my jacket as I stuffed my hands into the pockets. Bella walked quietly beside me, her tote slung over her shoulder, taking in her surroundings as a light breeze ruffled the dark layers twisted around her face. God, she really was a beautiful creature and I wanted to touch the porcelain skin of her cheek, the flesh tinted pink from the chill, and I practically had to clutch the insides of my pockets to make my hands behave themselves.

Bella looked over at me, her wide eyes shimmering as she smiled, a tender glow about her grin, and at once I had to know what she was thinking.

"What?" I asked her.

"I can't believe you moved to Italy. This might sound completely corny, but, I'm just…I'm really proud of you for coming here. For not giving up on yourself," she said, her fingers brushing through her hair and forcing it behind her ear.

It did sound corny but I didn't give a fuck because I was kinda proud of me too. It reminded me of my conversation with Carlisle and I couldn't help the smile now spreading across my lips, knowing I had at least this small step to stand upon.

"I never gave up on you, you know," I said to her, her eyes surveying my face as her features darkened.

"Well, that makes one of us," she muttered.

"That's okay. You're allowed to give up once in a while. We just can't both give up on the same day," I told her, letting my arm gently graze against hers, her lavender scent blooming around me. "As long as one of us is willing to fight, we'll be fine, right? I mean, if we could survive all this shit, even a continent apart, we can survive anything together."

Bella closed her eyes and nodded, one tear forming in the crease of her eye, and I used my thumb to wipe the tear from her face, my hand grazing over her cheek as her teary eyes met mine. I let my hand fall into hers and her fingers entwined with mine. She gripped my hand, tight and secure, and I let the tingle spread up my arm, the current warming through my shoulder and up my neck and through my spine, the swelling in my chest bursting against my ribs as my breathing stuttered. It was there, the connection, the comfort, the universe realigned in our elemental bond.

We walked the rest of the way in silence, letting our connection say what we could not put into words, and before I knew it I was walking her through the glass doors of the hotel. She walked to the front desk to pick up her key to the room and I was dreading this moment. I was going to have to let her go, leave her here in a hotel room when all I wanted was to bring her to my bed and curl around her. But we would have that soon enough.

Besides, I couldn't have Bella loving some possessive creep.

Bella turned towards me as we waited for the elevator. It would be best to say good night now and keep my distance from that room. I would be tempted to follow her inside and I knew that I couldn't, not yet.

"I'd like to see you tomorrow, if that's okay," Bella said, her hand still clutching mine.

"I'll bring you breakfast," I responded. It was only a few hours away, after all, I could make it through the night.

"I'll look forward to it," she said with a smile, and I still couldn't wrap my head around the fact that she could actually look forward to a meal.

The bell chimed and the elevator doors opened. I wanted to kiss her, place my lips on hers and hold on for dear life, but before I could make the decision she had dropped my hand and stepped into the elevator, the opportunity missed.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Edward," she said as the doors closed before I could properly respond, and I frantically punched the buttons on the wall, trying to force the doors open again.

"Shit!" I cursed out loud and I stifled the urge to punch the steel door. Instead, I spun around, shoving my hands in my pockets, and left the building.

I stepped onto the street and quickly lit a cigarette, the smoke fuming around my face as I inhaled a quick drag, trying to silence my still pounding nerves. What a fucking night, man. I turned to leave, flicking the ash from the cigarette and trying to tell myself to relax. I needed to read those emails. I quickly made my way to an internet café downtown that I knew would be open and was only a ten minute walk from the hotel.

Finally at the terminal, a handful of tourists using the other computers mainly to chat with family in other time zones, I logged into my email. I tried three passwords and luckily, on the third try, I was able to access my inbox. One hundred and seven emails, each one of them with the simple subject "Hey."

I scrolled to the bottom of the page, clicked on the first message, and I began to read.

I read all night. I ordered coffee from the bar and sat at the terminal all fucking night. I just kept clicking on those emails, greedily soaking up her words, and I could almost hear the emotion in her voice as I read. The first messages spoke of her argument with her mother and I could see her confusion in the text, the sentences continuing forever as she poured out all her frustration onto the page, the bold capital letters interspersed with mostly lowercase text. She had been angry, her fingers flying across the keys as she released all her insecurities and self loathing. And she had sent it all to me, so I could share this with her, so I could hear her realizations as they were happening. She wanted me to know, she wanted me to understand.

I chuckled to myself when she described her cooking disasters and how she couldn't get the recipes quite right, knowing full well the disappointment and irritations of a recipe gone awry. The way she was writing about food and cooking shocked the hell out of me, and I sat there, incredulous, as she documented restoring her relationship with food. She spoke of how she went to a restaurant but couldn't eat because she was distracted by all the happy couples dining cozily at the booths around her. I giggled at her cynical recounting of the event, how she almost wished they would get food poisoning and spend the rest of the evening on the toilet, but then rescinded the spiteful wish, knowing full well the wrath of karma. She was completely honest sharing her fears, her gripes, her pleasures, and her pains, with no sugarcoating, just gritty, raw emotions, complete with typos and misspelled words.

I sobbed like a fucking infant when she described our time together, how I'd made her feel alive and awake, how I incited feelings in her she hadn't ever thought possible. She wrote about my family and how she already regarded them as hers, how she'd learned of what a family should be through knowing them. And then she described me and my heart pulsed in my chest, how she felt watching me cook, how she felt listening to me speak, how my hands felt on her body, and in that moment I craved to touch her more than I could ever remember. Every intimate detail in her mind, the insignificant and the monumental, she shared with me. There was no room left for interpretation, no misunderstandings to be had, just everything laid out on the page.

She had given herself completely to me, and allowed me to read her thoughts, granting me access to the complexities of this most remarkable person. I knew she had suffered much loss and pain in her young lifetime, and I knew she had been living behind this shield she had erected to protect her soul from further injury. And yet, she summoned the strength to stand before me completely exposed and offer every part of herself to me. The magnitude of this was overwhelming, and I struggled to wrap my head around the enormity of what Bella had done. But no matter how I tried to make sense of it all, one thought pounded in my mind, soared in my heart and raced through my veins.

Go to her. Now. And give her forever.

I was out the door in a flash, my shoes pounding against the pavement. I had to see her now, to tell her how much I love her and how I never want to wake up without her again, how I want to see her clothes on my floor and her tote on my countertop forever. God, I just couldn't believe what it took to get to this point. Even a world apart, the two of us were still cosmically bound in our journey to self realization, our two paths running side by side, and now they shall converge as one.

I slowed my pace to a walk and reached into my pocket for my keys, struggling slightly to unthread my mother's ring from the key ring, Bella's ring, the delicate loop of gold interrupted by a single stone. I slipped it onto my pinky. Bella didn't need me to protect her, she didn't need me to save her, she just needed me to be there. And I intended to be there every day for the rest of my life.

I couldn't stop the smile from spreading across my lips. I wanted to laugh, I wanted to cry, I wanted to tell everyone I passed on the early morning street that I loved Bella and she had followed me all the way to Italy to tell me that she loved me too. I just couldn't wait to see her face, to wrap her in my arms and press my lips to hers, accepting everything she had disclosed in her emails, her revelations, her insecurities, her apologies, and fully realizing the magnitude of her presence here.

I quickly dialed Alice's number, the phone ringing and ringing on the other end. The digital numbers on the screen said it was just before five in the morning, but I called again, letting the phone ring and ring and ring.

Fuck! Why wasn't she answering the phone? I reached the hotel and dialed the number again as I paced outside on the sidewalk. Again, it rang without answer. I walked into the hotel lobby and asked the clerk at the desk for the room number.

"I need to find a guest, Alice Cullen." I guessed Alice would have put the hotel in her name but the clerk behind the desk just shook his head, speaking in a thick Italian accent

"I'm sorry sir, we cannot give out room numbers. Would you like to phone the room?" He motioned to the courtesy phones against the wall and I moved to the pick up the receiver when my cell phone rang in my jacket pocket.

"Alice!" I laughed, just thankful as all fuck she had called me back. "Alice, I have to see her, I have to see her now. What room are you in?"

"Edward, it's five in the morning. What's wrong?" Alice croaked over the phone. She must have been sleeping.

"Nothing is wrong! For the first fucking time in forever, everything is right. Everything is so fucking phenomenally right! I'm coming up, what room are you in?" I shouted into the phone, joyful as a motherfucker as the clerk shot me a dirty look from behind his desk, and I couldn't even be pissed at him.

"Stay there, I'll be right down," Alice said quietly, and I was beginning to wonder why she wouldn't just give me the fucking room number. I had to see Bella, my whole body itching in my skin to get to her.

"Alice, just give me the fucking room number. I'll bang on every door if I have to, I need to see Bella," I said into the phone.

I heard Alice sigh before she spoke. "Room 402. Bring coffee," she said before hanging up the phone. I placed the phone in my pocket and shouted at the clerk to send up three coffees to room 402 before running to the elevator and pushing the button half a dozen times, but I couldn't wait.

I bolted up the stairs to the fourth floor, taking them two at a time, and arrived on the landing sweaty and out of breath. I shrugged out of my jacket and tried to calm my breathing as I walked down the hall, looking for the numbers on the wall. I finally found their room and knocked continuously on the door until Alice's face peeked from behind it.

"Did the obnoxious fairy bite you last night or something," she said sarcastically as I barged in through the door and tossed my jacket on the bed.

"Where is she?" I said, looking around the small space and finding it empty. She wasn't here.

"Where's our coffee?" Alice asked and I paced in the room.

"Alice! Where the fuck is she? I need to see her. Tell me!" I pulled at my hair, fucking desperately trying to figure out where she was. Where would she go at five in the morning alone in a fucking foreign country?

My eyes fell upon the closed bathroom door, a faint yellow glow under the dark wood.

"Edward, wait-" My hand was on the knob and I pushed the door open before Alice could finish her sentence. I found myself drowning in a wave of sweltering lavender warmth.

And there she was. In the tub. Shaving her legs. And she was singing. Her headphones were in her ears and her mp3 player was balancing on the edge of the tub as her voice rang out in a familiar lyrical melody. "All I really, really want our love to do, is to bring out the best in me and in you…"

The soapy water beaded on her naked skin, soft white bubbles against her pale pink flesh, and her dark, wet hair looped along her neck and soft shoulders, her skin flawless and smooth. Her eyes gazed lazily upon the razor running along her slender leg with her foot perched on the edge of the tub, and I watched the soap bubbles slide down her back and along her spine until they disappeared over the top of her lovely behind and into the pool of water. I looked upon her in awe, her ease and happiness exuding sheer vibrancy from the foggy bathroom. God, she was so fucking beautiful.

"She's been like this since she got home from your apartment last night," Alice said from her seat on the bed behind me. "She said she had hope, Edward, said it was perched in her soul."

I couldn't stand being apart from her any longer. I cautiously walked into the bathroom and she suddenly looked over her shoulder. She removed the buds from her ears and set her player on the toilet, her eyes huge and filled with complete shock.

"Edward? What's wrong? What's the matter?" she gasped as she turned to slightly face me, and I couldn't stay away from her for one more second. I climbed into the tub, water filling my shoes and soaking me through to my skin as the water sloshed around our bodies and spilled onto the floor. I wrapped my arms around her body, her wet hands running through my hair as she smiled, a sly devious grin on her lips as she gazed into my eyes.

"Nothing matters. Just you, you're the only thing that matters to me," I murmured as I kissed her shoulder, her neck, her chin. I pulled her body closer to mine, my heart pounding as my hands clutched at her slippery skin, my fingers celebrating in the contact, and I felt my whole body ignite with energy, a jolt straight through every element of my being.

"You're so crazy," she laughed, and I shrugged, my hands running up her arms and cradling her face, and I ghosted my thumb over her cheek. "And I love you."

"I told you you would," I whispered, and I pressed my lips to hers, finally, tasting her sweet flavor, a slight tinge of lavender soap, and I melded into her body, both of us floating in the softly lulling water still lapping at the sides of the tub. "I want you forever, Bella."

She kissed me again, her hands pulling through my hair and gripping my neck as her tongue licked at my lips, accepting my own into her mouth. I frantically rolled my tongue with hers, drinking her in, and my heart felt like it was going to burst. I pulled away to press a profusion of soft delicate kisses upon her lips and cheeks and eyelids, and one more right on the tip of her nose.

"Forever, huh?" she teased breathlessly, and I smiled.

"That's all I'm asking for," I murmured against her wet skin as I pressed my cheek to her chest, the sound of her erratic heart thumping wildly against her ribs, and I knew, undoubtedly and without uncertainty, that this was where I was supposed to be. This was where I found my comfort, where I felt at ease and the place where I could rest my head. I was home.

We would still have our share of challenges and disappointments, the peaks and valleys characterized by our successes and failures. Like Bella had said, healing was a process, and the two of us were very much scabbed and scarred, but the healing would come and we would have love and laughter and friendship and each other. And I knew we'd be able to face whatever obstacles stood in our way, two elemental bodies orbiting this universe together, dodging the voids and vacuums of space as we spiraled through this life and the next, through hell or heaven or whatever plain of existence we should find ourselves travelling in. We will love and be loved, cosmically bound for a truly exceptional forever.

The End

...

**A/N**

Joni...My devotion runs deep, people, my very soul wrapped up in the life's work of this one human being.

_Case of You_

_All I Want_

And a tiny reminder of an Emily Dickinson poem, _Hope is the Thing with Feathers_

Thank you for letting these characters into your lives, for letting me share this story and for indulging me with conversation every week. I've loved every minute of it, and appreciate the friendships I've forged through this experience so very much. Love bbs, all I have is love. And I've heard, that's all you need ;)

Epilogue to follow...


	36. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

**Notes Below :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own it...**

**"And the Seasons, They Go Round and Round"**

When I think of my father, a million different smells and memories swirl through my consciousness: smoke wafting from the front porch as the sweet tobacco swirled around his face, marinara bubbling on the stove as he stood over the range with his black apron tied around his waist, using his finger to test the stewing tomatoes and leaving him with the smell of garlic and onions always on his hands. Even after endless attempts to wash the smell clean, I could always still smell it on him when he hugged me.

I can barely remember the first time I met him, but I knew every detail of the meeting, my mother recounting the events when I asked questions and pulling out old scrapbooks she'd made filled with pictures from my past life and with photos of my new family. She had always been honest with me, even when I was just a little shit and most people didn't think I'd understand, she respected me enough to give me the honest truth. She told me about her and my father signing the papers and bringing me home to complete their family, choosing a toddler over the coveted infants. My mother had always made it clear that they chose me, that they wanted me, and I can't ever remember them as anything other than my parents.

I remembered my first years with them, how I'd wake up from nightmares and my mom would sit with me by my bed, engulfing me in Joni Mitchell's lyrical melodies before falling asleep in the rocking chair in my new room. Or how my father would make me homemade chocolate chip cookies, even at midnight, because he knew they were my favorite and always made me feel better.

I remembered the first time I was grounded at the age of twelve because I got caught ditching class. I spent a whole week sulking in my room with my dad lecturing me every damn day on the importance of education and how knowledge is the basis for all growth, and I would roll my eyes at him. But he told me something then that I have carried with me ever since, he said I didn't have to like school or be good at any one particular thing, but that when I found something that made me feel alive I should pour my whole soul into it. Don't hesitate, he said, and don't half-ass it, do it with all your heart. Don't try, just do.

And now, five years later, kneeling on the tile floor of the kitchen as I searched through the cabinets looking for my ten-inch round cake pans, these are the thoughts that rambled through my seventeen-year-old brain.

My father is such a fucking cornball but I love him all the same.

"Ah-ha!" I said aloud to the empty house, pulling the round tins from underneath a cookie sheet as I stood up. I coated the inside of the Teflon pans with non-stick spray and lined the bottoms with parchment. Then, giving the vanilla batter one last whisk, I divided the mixture evenly amongst the three pans.

After placing them in the oven, I set the timer on the stove as I did the math in my head. Mom and Dad's flight was to come in at six this evening, so factoring in an hour or so for the drive from the airport, I would have just enough time to finish the cake before they got home from their yearly trip to New York. This was the first year they let me stay home by myself. Granted, they made every single one of my aunts and uncles check in on me, even sending over my cousin as a spy. We ended up drinking beer and playing video games all night, and I was hoping the cake would distract them from the fact that my cousin was a clumsy drunk and had destroyed one of my mom's favorite lamps. It was from Italy or something, from the time her and my dad had lived there when they were younger, so I knew she was going to be pissed.

But man, if anything could distract my mom from a rage-induced rant, it was cake. My mom loved my cakes.

This didn't always used to be the case. She used to have problems eating, even used to make herself throw up and shit because she didn't think she deserved to be loved. I had gone through a stage when I was fifteen, I started rebelling, I guess. I loved my parents, but I wanted to know where I came from and who my biological parents were and why they didn't want me. I didn't know how they could just give me up. My mom told me this story about when she was a kid, how her father gave her up because he didn't think he deserved her but that he had always loved her. She really helped me get through that frustration because it helped to know that I wasn't alone, and that I was lucky enough to have two people who loved and accepted me, even when I was acting like a rebellious asshole. I really appreciated them for that.

I saw the way my mom took care of those people at the clinic, how she helped them deal with their eating disorders and self esteem problems, showing them that we can't help the shit we're given but that we have a choice in how we deal with it. And I saw the way my mom adored my dad, the way she looked at him when he spoke, how she giggled with him when they had their morning coffee, and the way she'd wrap her arms around his waist and rest her head on his back while he cooked. My parents taught me all about what love should be, and what a family should feel like.

The timer dinged and pulled me from my reminiscent haze. I checked the layers in the oven, the cakes a perfect golden brown, and I pulled them from the heat and removed them from the pans to let them cool on the racks.

I mixed the ingredients for the frosting, today's choice a whipped vanilla buttercream. The trick to making a splendid frosting is in the fat. Butter is naturally creamier but doesn't hold as well as shortening for decorating. Some recipes call for both, but I strictly use all shortening, thinning the frosting with a little milk just to make it pliable, and to replace that buttery flavor I use a liquid butter flavoring, as well as vanilla and almond extract. It just adds that extra touch that makes this recipe mine. I concocted it myself following my dad's advice.

I loved throwing myself into baking. I was leaving after graduation for Le Cordon Bleu College of Culinary Arts in Los Angeles. I wanted to be a chef, like my father, only I was going to specialize in patisserie and baking. I had learned everything I knew about cooking from my dad. He owned his own restaurant here in Seattle where we lived and I wanted to be just like him someday, maybe own my own bakery or something. He told me I could do it, too, that I had a natural gift for the pastry arts, and I believed him. My father had always told me I could do anything, I just had to make the choice to do it.

Pulling the strawberry filling from the fridge, I set to work assembling the three layered cake. I piped around the edges of each layer, creating a confectionary dam so the filling wouldn't ooze out around the sides, before stacking the cooled cakes one on top of the other. I then used my spatula to smooth a thick layer of frosting around the sides and the top, dipping the metal scraper into a glass of water and obliterating any flaws in the perfectly smooth surface. I finished it by piping an intricate ribbon around the base, and covering the top with little pink rosettes and green leaves and vines, because I knew my mom would think they were pretty.

Just as I was finishing up, my cell phone rang and I grabbed it from the countertop to answer.

"Hi baby, it's Nonna. I just wanted to make sure you were okay," Nonna's voice soothed over the receiver. My nonna is a real hip chick, but geez, can't they cut me some slack? I am going to be living on my own in just a few months.

"I'm fine, Nonna. I'm just finishing up a cake," I said as I held the phone between my shoulder and ear, trying to wash up the remainder of the dishes. Multitasking like a motherfucker.

"Okay, sweetie. Oh! Poppa wants to say hi, he's just picking up the other phone." I heard a muffled static and then my grandfather's voice was on the phone.

"Hi doll, how are you?"

"I'm fine guys, really. They should be home in a couple of minutes or so," I said with a laugh.

"Alright, alright, tell your parents to call us when they get home. We love you," Nonna said before they both hung up the phone. I checked the clock. I still had fifteen minutes to spare. I turned on Discovery Channel and watched some show on life in the rainforest. Man, the camera angles were amazing and I watched this frog snag a huge ass beetle thing in slow motion. I was still sitting in awe when I heard my mother's voice from the entry way.

"Hello? We're home," she shouted through the house. I turned off the television and went to greet them. My mom stood before me, her short wavy hair ruffled around her face, and I threw my arms around her small frame. I was taller than her now, had been since the tenth grade, but I still felt protected when she wrapped her arms around me. I inhaled her clean lavender scent and relaxed into her soft white blouse. I always tried to pretend it didn't bother me, but I always miss them terribly when they go away.

"I missed you guys," I mumbled into her shirt, trying to maintain a little independence, but I knew as soon as I saw my dad I would just crumble.

"Hey, there's my girl," my dad smoothed as he walked through the door, and I ran to hug him tight across his middle. I inhaled his soapy smell as he kissed the top of my head, his hands running over my long tangled hair. "You've been baking. Vanilla and almond, did you make a cake?"

"Um, yeah. It's kind of a peace offering," I said hesitantly as my mom stopped in her tracks and spun around.

"What happened? What did Charlie break?" Yeah, this wasn't the first time I'd have to apologize for my cousin's behavior.

"The lamp in the living room," I said quickly before adding with a similar velocity, "But I made you cake." I smiled my cheesiest smile as a slow grin twitched on my mother's lips.

"You're lucky you're handy with the mixer," she teased. "Alright, where is this cake? I'm starving." She walked into the kitchen and my dad and I followed her as she took a fork from the drawer and dug right in to the cake on the counter, a small bite right off the side of the perfectly frosted cylinder.

"My God, you're going to send me into a diabetic coma one of these days," she said as she licked the frosting from the fork, and I laughed at the blissful look on her face.

"Alright, let me get a piece of this," my dad said, and she fed him a bite before placing a small delicate kiss on his lips. "Umm…sweet, definitely very very sweet." He winked at my mom and I almost rolled my eyes, knowing full well he wasn't talking about the cake.

I started putting away the dishes as my parents enjoyed the peace offering. My father set to work preparing the kettle for espresso. He turned to playfully smack my mom on the ass, something he considered a display of endearment, and she spun around with the fork still in her hand and tried to hit him back. The oblong diamond of her ring caught the rays and shimmered under the fluorescent lights.

"Knock it off, Edward, try to control yourself," my mom giggled, and she fed him another bite of cake.

"You know that's impossible," my dad said as he kissed her on the tip of her nose, his arms winding around her waist. "I've never been able to control myself around you, Bella, and you know it."

I have always known genetics had nothing to do with the connection I felt for my parents, but I was their child in so many ways. They had nurtured and guided me, saved me from an existence where I was of little importance and gave me a second chance at life, and over the last fifteen years they had taught me many things. They had taught me about the ups and downs of life and how karma can be a powerful ally. They taught me how to care for others and to be a compassionate human being. They taught me about family and choices and hope, and how our lives become what we want them to be, and that when destiny and fate take their leave, our choices take over. They taught me how to cook and how to nurture, but most of all my parents taught me about love.

...

**WARNING**: **Epically mushy A/N ahead**...

And now the circle is complete, my dears. Title is from Joni's _"The Circle Game"_.

Darling Readers...I cried my way through your messages last chapter. I am so humbled by your words and I just want to hug you and squeeze you and pinch your cheeks and give you big sloppy kisses. Thank you for rec'ing this story, for sharing your thoughts, your hurts, your loves, your heartaches, and your own personal demons, thank you for trusting me with your beloved characters and most of all, thank you for reading, for letting me share, and for letting me address issues that are often misunderstood. Letting go of these characters has been difficult for me but I am determined to be happy about the completion of this story...you hear that, DETERMINED! The friendships forged through this process are connections that have touched my soul and changed my life forever. I can't be sad with all that I've gained.

**n7of9**is beta, of course, and I love her more than I can express with endearments. Your dedication to this story, your friendship, your wisdom, it's all quite astounding and I truly couldn't have done this without you, my most favoritest person in the whole wide world.


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